


LUMOS

by frnklyiero



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Getting to Know Each Other, Hogwarts, Imported, M/M, Magic, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 19:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 94,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16919322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frnklyiero/pseuds/frnklyiero
Summary: "I don't fancy American candy.""Fancy? Who uses that word anymore?"Ryan wants to find reasons to dislike his new school, Ilvermorny, but Brendon is determined to change his mind.A Ryden AU fanfiction.





	1. ryan ross : origin

**Author's Note:**

> this work was imported from my wattpad. no part of this story may be reproduced without permission from me.
> 
> there have been minor changes to the fic prior to posting such as chapter names. the plot is not affected.

On one of the days in the sixth summer of his life, Ryan recalled playing with his toy broomstick in his room one night, pretending to be soaring above in the skies when he felt thirsty. Setting his toy down, he picked up his violently pink-and-blue spotted pet Pygmy Puff, Dottie, and went downstairs to grab a glass of water.

He had heard voices belonging to his parents while playing earlier, but only when he reached the last step was he aware of the tone of their voices. Sensing something was wrong, Ryan scurried down the hallway and peered into the kitchen round the doorjamb. A mix of curiosity and worry was bubbling in him as he listened to his parents' conversation.

"I can't do this anymore; I'm sorry, Danielle."

"But what about our son? George,  _please_ , think about him! He's only six and he needs his father --"

Ryan listened to them argue for a few moments in the dark hallway, their trenchant voices ringing in his ears. He knew they were talking about him but he didn't quite understand the business of why he was mentioned in their conversation. They sounded angry and sad at the same time so he wondered if he had done anything to upset them.

Apprehension wound itself around Ryan's tiny chest, constricting it, as he watched his parents' shadows casted against the kitchen wall; they were gesticulating and from the tone of their voices, Ryan could tell they were having one of 'those nights'.

Those nights where they'd get angry at each other for some reason that was unbeknownst to Ryan and awake the next day with cold and weary looks on their once-loving features, refusing to speak to each other.

Dottie made soft and chirping noises near Ryan's ear as though they had picked up on his worry. They were nuzzling into his cheek in attempts to comfort him. Ryan gave them a sad look, stroking its fur with his skinny finger, before he turned his attention back at the kitchen. He could hear nothing from inside now - they had ceased their argument - except for the sound of someone sighing loudly as if they've stopped accepting what they had believed in and was on the verge of breaking down.

Feeling the backs of his eyes stinging, Ryan climbed back up the stairs as quietly as he could, his thirst forgotten, and returned to his room. As he drew the covers over himself, a sense of foreboding crashed over him in waves.

He barely got a wink of sleep that night.

▬▬▬

Ryan had felt the hurricane of presentiment brewing for some time now but he hadn't expected it to hit the shore any time soon. He thought his parents had made up because the past few weeks they had ceased their arguing. But a part of him knew something was strange because his parents barely wanted to be around with each other.

He saw his mother crying in the bedroom this afternoon. When he went downstairs to the living room, hoping to find his father so he could cheer his mother up. But his father had been nowhere to be found so Ryan returned to his mother and tried to cheer her up himself by telling funny stories he made on the spot.

"Mummy and Daddy have done a lot of thinking," Danielle Ross was saying as they ate dinner together one Thursday night. She was regarding her son with a pinched and nervous expression, constantly glancing at her husband, George, who was looking at anywhere but her.

Ryan didn't have much appetite that night, chasing his peas around his plate with his fork before he lifted his gaze to both his parents. "Done what thinking?" he inquired, even though deep inside there was a sense of foreboding simmering in his chest.

"Well, Mummy and I have been arguing a lot lately and we always seem to be cross with each other," George said carefully. "And Mummy and Daddy have decided that we need to take some time from each other."

Ryan's fork almost slid out of his grasp. At first he didn't believe his ears but when the silence was all he heard, the little boy looked up. On his features was an expression of disbelief and confusion.

"Daddy will be moving back to the States and will see how he likes living on his own," Danielle explained, her eyes clouding with worry when she saw Ryan staring unresponsively. "But Mummy will stay here to look after you," she added, hoping this statement would soften the impact of the news on her son.

"But --" Ryan regarded them both with incomprehension before realization hit him. What he'd been fearing - that his parents were going to separate - had become a reality. His throat tightened painfully. "Is Daddy leaving because of me?" he asked, feeling the backs of his eyes burning with the threat of tears. "Is it because you don't love me?" His voice cracked.

"No, no," George replied, looking distressed that his son had even thought of it like that. "Daddy - Daddy just needs time on his own," He said.

"Daddy still loves you," Danielle insisted, her voice thickening with concern when Ryan began to inch back in his seat.

But even if his mother had never told him a lie in his entire life, Ryan didn't believe her. If George cared about him at all, why wouldn't he answer? "Then  _why_?" he demanded, hearing the volume of his voice increase abruptly. "Why must you go?"

"It's not your fault, dear," Danielle said. "It's an adult decision between Mummy and Daddy."

"It's for the best," George added,flatly.

Ryan stood up from his seat, shaking his head. There was something he wanted to say, the words were burning at the back of his throat - but his voice didn't cooperate with him. He left the table.

*

"Don't you want to say goodbye to Daddy?" Danielle asked her son, who was clutching her by her skirt and peering round her legs at his father.

Ryan's lips pressed together. His chest was constricted with resentment towards George - the whole time throughout the filing process and court proceedings, his father had never really said anything much to him, which gave Ryan the impression that he didn't really care at all and was most likely happy to leave Ryan and Danielle. He looked up at George's expression and then turned his gaze to the ground and allowed the background noise to wash over him while his parents exchanged their last conversation before George would leave for North America.

They were at the airport and the place was swarming with Muggles of all nationalities; normally, the sight of so many non-magic folk would've piqued Ryan's curiosity but today's event had overshadowed his natural inquisitiveness. Even his usually upbeat and cheery mood had been dampened over the past few months.

Overhead, there was a boarding announcement for George's flight. With the last few minutes ticking away, George bent down. "Hey, buddy," he said, trying to catch Ryan's eyes with his own; despite having lived in England for some time, his accent remained irrevocably American.

Ryan didn't look at him, instead stared at the space in between his shoes.

George opened his mouth as if to say something, a desperate light in his gaze before it smothered out, a look of hurt flashing across his expression. Instead of speaking like he had intended to, he reached out and touched his son's face for what would be the last time in many years to come. "I love you," he said but those words were wasted on the little boy who turned away.

*

It was the month before Ryan's eleventh birthday. He was lying on the couch watching tv while letting Dottie attempt to make a nest in his already messy pillow hair one Sunday morning, still a bit sleepy, when his mother exclaimed somewhere down the hallway loudly. Snapping to full wakefulness, he slid off the sofa and hurried to where he assumed his mother was, thinking something had gone wrong at first.

In the foyer stood his mother, staring with huge eyes at the letters in her hands. Ryan found this to be  _highly_  unusual, considering the fact that he had never witnessed Danielle getting excited over mail. Confused, Ryan approached her carefully. "What's wrong, Mum?" he asked, frowning slightly.

"Oh nothing, dear!" Danielle was beaming down at her very bewildered son when she realized she hadn't shown him what had gotten her excited. "Go on! Read this." She handed him one of the envelopes, a smooth cream-colored one. Ryan accepted it from her, regarding her face skeptically for a moment he had a proper look.

At first, there was what anyone would expect to see on the front, the recipient's name and address; but upon closer inspection, Ryan noticed that it was his name printed on the envelope and his address. His heart skipping with a mix of confusion and excitement - he had never received mail before - and turned it over when he saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms depicting four animals; a lion, a snake, a badger and an eagle surrounding a large letter 'H' - it stamped to the back over the flap. His eyes grew wide and in a moment he was opening the envelope with haste.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, pulling out the letter before unfolding it. The thick parchment paper crinkled slightly in his hands as he spread it out so could he read it. His mother watched on with a proud smile.

"MUM!" Ryan exclaimed loudly, now understanding why Danielle had gotten so excited when she saw this letter in the mail. "Does this mean I'm going to Hogwarts? For real?" he asked, brown eyes shining.

"Yes, you are, dear!" Danielle ruffled her son's hair affectionately, beaming. "You're going to learn magic and become a wizard."

"This is so wicked!" Ryan was very elated and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Even Dottie was overjoyed for him, expressing their feelings by humming  _Hallelujah_. "Oh this'll be so exciting! I'll be able to learn spells and make Potions and perform transfigurations! And then I'll be able to Apparate when I'm seventeen. Oh! And I might be able to work at the Ministry as an Aurora like you."

" _Auror_ ," Danielle corrected him with an affectionate laugh. "Well, I'll tell you what: we'll go to Diagon Alley later this afternoon to get the things you need for school. Sounds good?"

Ryan nodded enthusiastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fair warning to those of you who have read this fic before and are rereading this again (for whatever reason) please do not spoil the story.
> 
> Everyone deserves the opportunity to enjoy the story without spoilers.
> 
> If you do not heed this warning, I will have to delete your comment.
> 
> You have been warned.
> 
> Also, please do not stay up to finish this fic. You need your rest more than you need to finish this story.


	2. playlist

[fix you by coldplay](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k4V3Mo61fJM)

[demons by against the current](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YuBydllZYOM)

[stone by alessia cara ft sebastian kole](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_1P0VSHthVw)

[the kids aren't alright by fall out boy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WR7U7_cKJw4)

[kiss me by ed sheeran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3IUfGfOK3z0)

[hero/heroine by boys like girls](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYNznNBeDnQ)

[always summer by yellowcard](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kIeDk7NptVo)

[stomach tied in knots by sleeping with sirens](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RF19aKuF2qQ)

[i want to hold your hand by the beatles](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jenWdylTtzs)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to mention is that I will be relying on headcanons to make up for what the Pottermore website cannot currently offer me regarding information about Ilvermorny.


	3. wizarding dictionary for muggles/no-majs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just for those of you who hasn't read or watched Harry Potter or that you need a refresh on wizarding terms. You don't have to read this all in one go, but if you decide to then be my guest.
> 
> Just a note that this list isn't exhaustive and I'll probably add more terms as the story goes along.
> 
> The definitions will be taken from [hp-lexicon.org](https://www.hp-lexicon.org), [harrypotterwikia.comt](url), etc.
> 
> last updated: 13th January 2018

**APPARITION**  
An advanced spell used by fully trained witches and wizards to disappear from one place and appear almost instantly somewhere else. A person who uses this spell is referred to as an Apparator. Apparition is typically cast non-verbally.

 **AUROR**  
An elite group of witches and wizards who battle the Dark Arts. They operate in some ways as soldiers but more often as intelligence agents, seeking out Dark wizards and defeating them, often in fierce wizard duels. Aurors are sometimes refered to as Dark Wizard catchers.

 **FLOO** **POWDER**  
A glittery powder used by witches and wizards to travel by the Floo Network, which connects the fireplaces of nearly every wizarding h9usehold and building. With the use of Floo powder, witches and wizards are able to enter a fireplace at the origin building and exit a fireplace at the destination building. It can also be used as a means of communication, where magical persons can have their head temporarily transported to another fireplace to speak to those at the destination fireplace

 **GRINGOTTS**  
Gringotts Wizarding Bank is the only bank of the wizarding world, and is owned and operated by goblins

 **HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**  
The British wizarding school, located in the Highlands of Scotland. It was founded by four wizards; Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin.   
It takes students from the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, and Ireland.  
Students of this school are sorted into one of four houses (Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin) each of which value a certain set of characteristics and qualities.

 **HORNED SERPENT**  
One of the four houses at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in North America founded by Irish-born witch Isolt Sayre.  
Horned Serpent House is sometimes considered to represent the mind of a witch or wizard. It is also said that Horned Serpent favors scholars.

 **HUFFLEPUFF**  
One of the four Houses of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Its founder was the medieval witch Helga Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff is the most inclusive among the four houses; valuing hard work, dedication, patience, loyalty, and fair play rather than a particular aptitude in its members.

 **ILVERMORNY SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY**  
The North American wizarding school, located on Mount Greylock in modern day Massachusetts, United States of America. It was founded by Irish-born witch, Isolt Sayre.  
Students in this school are sorted into one of four houses (Pukwudgie, Wampus, Horned Serpent and Thunderbird) each of which are based on which part of a student most identifies with.

 **GRYFFINDOR**  
One of the four Houses of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, founded by Godric Gryffindor. Such character traits of students Sorted into Gryffindor are courage, chivalry, and determination. The emblematic animal is a lion, and its colours are scarlet and gold.

 **MACUSA**  
The Magical Congress of the United States of America (shortened MACUSA) is the magical body in charge of governing the wizarding population of the United States of America. It is led by the President of the Magical Congress of the United States of America. Unlike the No-Maj United States Congress, which is divided into a House of Representatives and a Senate, the MACUSA is unicameral.

 **MUGGLE/NO-MAJ**  
Wizarding cultural terms describing a person who is born to two non-magical parents and is incapable of performing magic.

 **PORTKEY**  
An object enchanted to instantly bring anyone touching it to a specific location. Most of the time, a Portkey is an everyday object, commonly disguised as litter, that would not draw the attention of a Muggle.

 **PUKWUDGIE**  
One of the four houses at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardryin North America. It was named so by No-Maj James Steward, after the Pukwudgie, a fiercely independent magical goblin-like creature, based on stories he heard from his wife Isolt Sayre.  
Pukwudgie House is sometimes considered to represent the heart of a witch or wizard. It is also said that Pukwudgie favors healers.

 **PUFFSKEIN**  
A Puffskein is covered in soft fur and spherical in shape. It is a popular pet found worldwide that does not object to being cuddled or thrown about. The Puffskein is a scavenger, eating anything from leftovers to spiders, but it particularly likes to use its long thin pink tongue to eat wizards' bogeys while they sleep. This makes them a popular wizarding pet.

 **QUIDDITCH**  
A game played by wizards and witches. Each team consists of seven players (3 Chasers, 2 Beaters and 1 Seeker), each flying on a broomstick. There are four balls in total (1 Quaffle, 2 Bludgers and 1 Golden Snitch).

The object of the game is to score more points than your opponent. Each goal is worth 10 points. However, the game can only be won if the Golden Snitch (worth 150 points) is captured by the Seeker.  
The Chasers attempt to throw the soccer-sized Quaffle through three large hoop goals at either end of the pitch. The Beaters hit larger-sized balls, called Bludgers, in the general direction of their opponents in attempts to defend their teammates or distract them. The Seeker's role is, obviously, to capture the Snitch.

 **QUODPOT**  
A variant of Quidditch, Quodpot was invented in the eighteenth century by Abraham Peasegood, and is the most popular wizarding game in the United States. 

Centred around the explosive properties of the ball, known as the Quod, a game of Quodpot is played between two teams with eleven players each. The players attempt to get the Quod into the pot at the end of the pitch before it explodes. When the Quod is safely in the pot - which contains a solution to stop the Quod from exploding - the scorer's team gets a point and a new Quod is brought into play. Any player in possession of the Quod when it explodes must leave the field of play.

 **RAVENCLAW**  
One of the four Houses of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, founded by Rowena Ravenclaw. Members of this house are characterized by their wit, creativity and wisdom. Its house colours are blue and bronze, and its symbol is an eagle.

 **SLYTHERIN**  
One of the four Houses at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, founded by Salazar Slytherin. Such character traits are cunning, resourcefulness, and ambition. Its emblematic animal is a snake and its colours are green and silver.

 **SP** **LINCHING**  
Occurs when a witch or wizard Apparates or Disapparates unsuccessfully, leaving part of his or her clothes or body behind in their former location. The degree of splinching can range from minimal, such as loss of hair, to life-threatening, such as loss of flesh or muscle, though the damage is usually repairable.

 **THUNDERBIRD**  
one of the four houses at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in North America, founded by one of Isolt Sayre's adopted sons, Chadwick Boot.  
Thunderbird House is sometimes considered to represent the soul of a witch or wizard. It is also said that Thunderbird favors adventurers.

 **WAMPUS**  
One of the four houses at Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardryin North America.It was named after the magical creature of the same name by one of Isolt Sayre's adopted sons, Webster Boot.  
Wampus House is sometimes considered to represent the body of a witch or wizard. It is also said that Wampus favors warriors.

▬▬▬

 **WIZARDING** **CURRENCY**

 **⌜** _british_   **⌟**

1 galleon = 17 sickles / 493 knuts  
1 sickle = 29 knuts

 **⌜** _american_   **⌟**

dragot  
( comes in denominations of 1, ½ and ¼ )


	4. his first year

"Mum, won't I hit the wall if I run towards it?" eleven year-old Ryan asked as he regarded one of the columns between the Platform 9 and Platform 10. His hands were gripping the trolley handles like he was afraid that it might roll away without him. A mix of apprehension and excitement gripped the pit of hid stomach.

"Don't you worry, dear. You'll be able to enter Platform 9¾ this way," hs mother assured with a smile at her son, patting his head. Ryan looked up at her, his expression that of doubt and uncertainty. "Running helps with the nerves. On three, alright?"

Ryan nodded and looked at the wall just as Danielle began to count. At three, both of them began to run towards the wall. Ryan's eyes squeezed shut instinctively as he braced himself for impact. But the impact didn't come, instead there was a form of resistance in the air that felt like a barrier when he passed through the wall.

And then he opened his eyes.

No longer did the sight of Muggles rushing here and there remain before him. Now he saw wizards on this platform, easily identified from their trolleys laden with trunks and cages that contained animals ranging from owls to toads to rats. There was even the wizarding world's terms exchanged around such as Quidditch, wands and Hogwarts. A group of teenagers passed by Ryan, talking excitedly about their plans for their school year. A few feet away, three boys about a year older than Ryan were talking about the Sorting (an event wherein new Hogwarts students would be placed in houses) whilst exchanging Chocolate Frog cards.

Like Ryan, students who were boarding the Hogwarts Express were lining up to load their belongings in their compartments.

And then the full blow of realization hit Ryan. This was  _it_. He was actually attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to learn magic and become a proper wizard like he had always wanted to. He was going to perform spells and make potions, play Quidditch and be around other wizard children. A shiver of excitement ran through him.

Ryan took a step forward, drawn by the promise of learning magic, when he stopped. He turned to face his mother, who was regarding him with teary but proud gaze. That was when he remembered he'd only be able to see her next summer. And that was a long time without seeing his mother; the thought frightened him. Without hesitation, he dashed into her, throwing his arms around his mother tightly. He wasn't even aware of his cheeks staining with tears.

Danielle was taken aback momentarily by the sudden gesture but hugged her son, patting his hair. She heard Ryan sniffle. "It's okay, dear. You'll be fine at Hogwarts. You'll be able to meet new friends, try out new things and learn --"

"I wish you could come with me," Ryan couldn't help but whine. She was the only family he had and he couldn't bear the idea of being away from his mother for so long. He was, after all, a child.

Danielle's heart warmed at her son's earnest tone. She smiled, ruefully, and touched Ryan's face. "I love you," she told him and kissed his cheek. "You'll do fine, dear. I know you will."

"I love you too, Mummy," Ryan responded, his voice shaking, when the sound of the train whistle broke through the din around them. A look of worry crossed Ryan's features as he looked to the train where students, who were on the platform, were boarding. He could see some of them having teary exchanges with their family and he was suddenly hit with the realization that he had to spend at least three months at Hogwarts, if he were to return home on Christmas break. It was too long a wait for him. "Do I have to go now?" He sounded anxious.

"Yes, you do, dear," Danielle answered, standing up. "You'd best hurry up if you don't want to get left behind," she said with a laugh, ruffling her little boy's hair affectionately. "Otherwise, we might have to travel by a flying car to get there."

Ryan giggled at his mother's gesture and grinned up at her. He hugged her one last time, holding on longer than necessary, then went to board the Hogwarts Express.

▬▬▬

Ryan found himself a compartment near the back where there was two children about his age seated inside. They were preoccupied with trading Chocolate Frog Cards to notice Ryan peering at them curiously. The atmosphere inside appeared to be calm and relaxed, which was at odds with the earlier compartments that Ryan had passed by earlier - they were noisy and filled with people older than he was.

Ryan's palms were sweaty as he took a moment to breathe and pluck his courage. Wiping his hands on his jeans, he opened the door. The two children about his age looked up at him from trading their Chocolate Frog cards, looking slightly surprised with Ryan's presence. "Hello there," Ryan greeted, his voice quavering in the slightest from the nervousness.

The girl, who had her jet black hair done in pigtails, smiled at Ryan. "Ooh, are you a first year too? You must be; you look about our age! What's your name?" she asked. "I'm Lindsey Ballato. And this here's my cousin James Euringer. James, say hi - I know you're trying to nick my Hermione Granger card so stop that." She scowled at the boy beside her, who was in the process of pocketing a Chocolate Frog card.

"I wasn't stealing anything." The boy named James stuck his tongue out at Lindsey before turning to Ryan. "Hello, I'm James Euringer but just call me Jimmy Urine." He had this impish look about him, a wide grin and a playful gleam in his eyes,nthat gave Ryan the impression that he shouldn't be trusted around any of the Weasley Wheezes products.

"I'm Ryan Ross," Ryan introduced himself, smiling a bit. He was still standing by the compartment door, uncertain whether he should enter or not. His Pygmy Puff, Dottie, who was perched on his shoulder made an impatient noise. He looked around the compartment. Though he knew there was enough space to fit him here, he couldn't help but start to feel that perhaps the children would rather be with their own company.

"Well, don't just stand there," Jimmy told Ryan. "You're making me feel bad that I haven't invited you in," he said.

" _We_ ," Lindsey corrected, sifting through her Chocolate Frog cards. "Please join us, Ryan. We'd appreciate it so much if you could," she added.

Jimmy's face broke into a huge grin when Ryan stepped in the compartment, closing the door behind him. "Sit right here," Jimmy told Ryan as he patted the spot beside him. After a second's hesitation, Ryan sat down beside Lindsey; she looked thrilled and even stuck her tongue out at Jimmy who gave her a scandalized look and made a rude gesture.

"Not to be rude or anything, but why would you want to your last name to be the synonym of pee?" Ryan questioned curiously when Jimmy's face darkened; it was apparent he had been asked this question many times and wasn't enthusiastic about explaining himself about it.

"It's his rockstar name." Lindsey sighed wearily, giving Jimmy a pointed look. "He thinks it sounds cool," she said and made a face to display her distaste in Jimmy's decision.

"Correction: it  _is_  cool," Jimmy said defensively, crossing his arms and narrowing his eyes; his ears had turned red so he was more embarrassed than he let on. He turned to Ryan, mouth open as if to say something when his eyes widened. "Is that a Puffskein?" he asked, suddenly very excited when Dottie hummed in greeting.

"Pygmy Puff," Ryan corrected and allowed Dottie to climb into his cupped palms.

"Well, they're still the same but they're bred in a different size. I've always wanted one of these from the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes ..." Jimmy said, suddenly dropping the loud cadences he had spoken with earlier. He appeared to be very fascinated by Ryan's pet. After a moment's hesitation, Ryan let him hold Dottie, who regarded Jimmy warily, then decided he was harmless, and hopped onto the boy's arm and hummed what sounded like Old McDonald.

"Their name's Dottie," Ryan informed Jimmy.

"Meh. You could've named Dottie something cooler instead," Jimmy mused aloud although he looked like he was tryinh hard not to explode with excitement when Dottie climbed up his arm. "If I were you," Jimmy said while Dottie settled on the top of his head. "I'd name Dottie, Fluffy the Destroyer," he said.

"No," Ryan and Lindsey said at once before they shared a grin and laughed.

"Anyway, do you wonder what house you'll be sorted in?" Lindsey asked, steering away from their previous topic in case Jimmy decided to debate on it, which he appeared to be considering. "I think I'll be in Hufflepuff," she speculated.

"I'm definitely gonna be in Slytherin!" Jimmy expressed confidently. "I can be ambitious so the Sorting Hat better have the sense to put me there," Jimmy said before he turned to Ryan, who had lapsed into a thoughtful silence. "What about you? You look like a Hufflepuff kind of person," he opined. "Y'know, soft, mild-mannered and you smell nice."

Ryan was startled for a moment by how upfront Jimmy was; his face heated up. "Ah, well. I don't know," he admitted, shrugging. "To be honest, I wouldn't want to think about this because I don't want to be disappointed. But I might be sorted in Ravenclaw," he said nonchalantly. Truth be told, he didn't care too much about which house he  _wanted_  to be sorted in. It should come as a surprise, not a prediction otherwise there was bound to be disappointment.

The three of them kept up the chatter, speculating about the lessons they'd be learning, how many in their year would be present at the Sorting and Jimmy had even brought up the topic of secret passages. Their conversation went on hold when the trolley lady came by. Ryan had bought himself a stack of Cauldron Cakes and shared his food with his new friends.

As the train approached the Hogsmeade Station, Ryan was happy that he had made friends. They were greeted at the platform by a large man with wild, bushy hair and beetle-black eyes who held an equally large and bright lantern in his hand.

"Firs'-years? Right over here!" he called out and a group of about 40 children, all the same age as Ryan gathered around him. They seemed terrified by his size, though Ryan was fascinated that a person grow up to be so huge and tall.

The man introduced himself as Hagrid before he led them off down a dark path that was very steep and narrow. Had it not been for the illumination from Hagrid's lantern, everyone would've either tipped over stray pebbles or walked into the person before them.

They reached the edge of the lake where boats awaited them by the shore. Beyond the lake stood a mountain where a large castle stood with its many turrets and towers, its bright windows seemingly watching over them like a vigilant yellow-eyed guardian.

There were a few protests heard amongst the group as they got into their boats because some were worried that they might unbalance the thing and fall into the lake. Hagrid assured the children that the magic used in making the boat would remain stable, even if a person were to sway the boat on purpose.

Once the children were settled and seated as comfortably as they could manage, the boats glided across the lake magically. The ride wasn't scary, in fact, it was quite enjoyable although Ryan could've sworn he saw a tentacle break the surface of the ink-black water that reflected the starry sky.

They were ushered into the castle - there was a huge sign that read ʜᴏɢᴡᴀʀᴛs sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ ᴏғ ᴡɪᴛᴄʜᴄʀᴀғᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡɪᴢᴀʀᴅʀʏ on the great oak doors - before they were taken to the Great Hall by a teacher named Professor Longbottom and an unpleasant-looking man with hunched-shoulders and a thin gray hair - Argus Filch, the school's caretaker.

In the Great Hall, there were four rows of long tables that spanned the length of the room and above each table hung on the beams of the ceilings were banners, one for each house they represented - scarlet and gold with a lion symbol for Gryffindor; the eagle on the royal blue and bronze banner for Ravenclaw; canary yellow and black with a badger for Hufflepuff; and the emerald green and silver banner for the snake, Slytherin.

The ceilings, Ryan noticed as he looked upwards, were enchanted and was bewitched to mimic the cloudy weather outside. It gave him the impression that the hall was opened up to the sky, which was a fascinating illusion for him. Lowering his gaze, he saw thousands of floating candles above the tables that were providing light where the torches along the wall couldn't illuminate. He wondered if they ever dripped and if they did, how often had a student been dripped on by hot wax. It was probably a ridiculous notion and besides, magic was probably involved to stop that from happening.

The Great Hall was filled with chatters and conversations passed around by the students at the tables. There were even ghosts, flickering silver and white under light as they floated past tables. Everyone was looking at the new first years and whispered amongst each other, speculating who would join which house, how long they'd take to be Sorted and whether there'd be a Hatstall (when the Sorting Hat takes a longer period of time than usual to decide the house of a particular student).

In front of the room sat a stool where an old hat sat in front of the lectern. The Headmistress was standing there. She was a stern and severe looking woman by the name of Minerva McGonagall. There was a long table behind her where the teachers of Hogwarts would dine, all of them watching the new students with interest. The Hat began to sing once all first years were lined up in front, which Ryan thought was rather entertaining.

Afterwards the Sorting ceremony began. One by one, a first-year's name would be called out by the Headmistress. They would sit at the stool and have the Hat placed on their head. Each time a new student was sorted, their respective house members would cheer and stamp their feet raucously. Ryan thought he also saw some of the students exchange money under the table.

Lindsey was sorted into Gryffindor and Jimmy into Ravenclaw; Ryan wondered if they were any bit disappointed that their predictions from earlier weren't correct but judging from looks of delight and excitement on their faces, he supposed not. A few more people in front were called when all too soon his turn came.

Trembling with nervousness and excitement, Ryan stepped forward and sat on the old stool carefully. Once he was sure it could still hold his weight, he looked up at the Headmistress only to see her placing the on Hat his head. It slid past his head and its brim sagged over his eyes and obscured his view of the sea of faces watching him in anticipation.

Frankly, the Hat smelled funny, like it had been sitting in the back of a musty old cupboard for too long. Ryan heard a voice in his head - it was whispering almost inaudibly and all the words he could make out was difficult times, which house, lineage, determination, when the Hat yelled, "SLYTHERIN!" He nearly fell off the stool, startled.

The table under the banner of the coiled snake erupted into roars, whoops and cheers. Dazed, Ryan rose from the stool and drifted over to the Slytherin table, where his new housemates greeted him with open arms and ecstatic smiles. He felt hands clap his shoulders and a cacophony of voices speaking - or more like shouting because they wanted to be heard over the loud hooting from the Ravenclaw table - before he sat down, sandwiched in between a fifth-year girl who introduced herself as the Quidditch Captain and a third-year boy who happened to be trying out some of Weasley Wheezes joke products on his friends.

Amongst these older students, Ryan felt very small indeed but some part of him knew he'd grow into his new house.

▬▬▬

After dinner was over, the first-years were herded by the house prefects to their common room. Slytherin's first-years were led through passages away from the Great Hall with many twists and turns and down a spiraling staircase. It was a few minutes before they were told to stop in front of a stretch of a bare, stone wall. The air here felt cold and damp, for some reason; Ryan could hear water dripping faintly somewhere.

"What are we doing at a dead end?" a first-year boy asked curiously, "Where's the common room?"

"It's behind this wall," one of the prefects, a tall girl with fiery red hair, answered. "To get inside you need to say the password," she said.

"Why is there water dripping on my shoulder? Where  _exactly_  are we?" asked another first-year whose name Ryan didn't ask for yet. She was glancing at the ceiling apprehensively.

The other prefect, a slender boy with a brooding expression on his delicate features, arched his eyebrows. "We're under the Black Lake, if you must know," he answered. "That's the lake all of you sailed on earlier. The common room's got a pretty view and if you're lucky, you might see the Giant Squid although it's too dark to see anything right now."

"To enter the common room, you will need a password which we will tell you in a bit. Now, we will change the passwords every fortnight so please check the noticeboard in the common room," the red-haired prefect said. "Also, you have to remember the password otherwise it'll be troublesome to wait for someone to come out of the dungeon."

"Dungeon?" A girl beside Ryan looked slightly perturbed. "Are we sleeping in cells?" she inquired. "Because if we are, that's dreadful!" she said worriedly.

The two prefects exchanged looks, the corners of their mouths tugging upwards. "We do have that for misbehaving students," the slender boy affirmed. "Especially for those who don't listen to our instructions --"

"Haru, can you cut the bullshit already? I need to pee! This bladder can't hold its load in any longer," a senior at the back complained loudly. There were laughs from the house, which the first-years joined awkwardly.

"Merlin's beard, Dennis - you could've used the damn bathroom sooner!" The red-haired girl called out, rolling her eyes.

"Oh piss off, Rachel!"

Ignoring Dennis, the prefect Rachel said, "Alright, first-years, the password is snakebites." The moment it was mentioned, the stone wall began to rumble and open up.

"Welcome to the Slytherin Common Room, your home away from home," both Rachel and Haru said when the two exchanged looks with each other as though they could hardly believe they had both said it at the same time and cringed promptly. After a moment's hesitation, the first-years entered.

The Slytherin common room was a long, low area with rough hewn stone walls and ceiling, where there were lamps were hanging on chains emitting a faint greenish light over the room. A fire was crackling under an intricately carved mantelpiece ahead of them. There were a lot of low-backed leather sofas around the area, dark wood cupboards and shelves lining the walls. A wall was decorated with tapestries depicting famous Mediaeval Slytherins on their adventures. There was also large windows in the room, with murky waters behind it.

The seniors fanned out, some returning to their dorms while others occupied the sofas, leaving the prefects and the first-years in the middle of the room. Before showing the new Slytherins to their respective dorms, the prefects began to explain to them regarding some rules and regulations they should know - other rules can be found in the student handbooks provided in their dorms.

For every merit, the prefects explained, their house would be awarded points which would be tallied and compared with other houses. If they got the highest total points, they'd win the House cup. To find out how many points a house had, they had to check the hourglasses at the Entrance hall. The merits could be anything, ranging from giving correct answers in class discussions to winning a Quidditch match. If they were to misbehave, points could be taken from their houses. The professors and librarians have the power to award or deduct points from students. Prefects, the Head Boy, and the Head Girl can deduct points as well, but not from other Prefects or Students from other Houses.

Most of the rules were very standard, going from their uniform to punctuality but the one rule that was highlighted was how they weren't supposed to bring anyone from outside the house to the common room - Haru rolled his eyes and said it's been broken many times before right under their noses but compared to the consequences of breaking other rules, this wasn't so bad - Rachel added there had been secret parties held and they were successful at throwing them under the professors' noses.

Rachel and Haru let the information sink into the children's minds before Haru announced that they'd each be leading the first-years to their dorms. "Boys, or whoever that identifies as one, follow me," Haru said, beckoning those he addressed.

"Same thing Haru said but for girls," Rachel led the girls to their dorms.

Ryan fell in line with the boys even though Haru never told anyone to line up. They were led up a spiraling staircase, down a corridor when they reached a door at the end. The door had a sign on it that read First Years. "This will be your room for the rest of your stay at Hogwarts," Haru said as he opened the door and stepped aside.

The first year boys peered around the room with wide and curious eyes. There were five four-poster beds with green silk hangings for each of the boys. The walls were painted in a gentler shade of the house color and there were large windows that showed the underwater view of the lake. Their trunks had already been brought here.

"We left you some housewarming - or is it dormwarming?" Haru paused to think whether the word he said existed. "Anyway, everyone from the years above you chipped in to get some stuff we thought you might need for your first week," he explained, motioning at the boxes left on each bed. "If you have any more questions or things you need, just ask any of the seniors. Now rest up; you have a big day tomorrow." Giving a nod at the boys, Haru greeted good night and left the room.

Now they were at Hogwarts, no adult would nag at them about them being awake way past their bed times. However, the first-year boys knew it was time to sleep as they felt exhausted from the long day. They did spare a few moments to introduce themselves to one another before they shuffled off to change into their pajamas.

As each boy said good night, Ryan curled under the sheets of his bed with Dottie resting next to his head on the pillow. He was surprised to find that it didn't smell musty with age but rather like it had been freshly laundered. The excitement of the day had already worn off and Ryan fell asleep to the soft sound of the water lapping against the windows.

▬▬▬

Once the last lesson of the day before the winter break, which was Charms, was dismissed, everyone filed out of the Professor Flitwick's class at once. Their voices had risen into loud chatters about what they were going to do for their holiday. Some students were staying at Hogwarts for Christmas but most of them would be going home to their families.

After copying the notes off the board, Ryan wished the tiny Professor Flitwick a Merry Christmas before hurrying out the classroom with everyone. He got changed out of his school robes into his Slytherin jumper and jeans in his dorm. He also took Dottie with him because she'd been cooped up all day in there. Then, he made his way to the Great Hall where he had agreed to meet Jimmy and Lindsey. He found his friends at the Ravenclaw table. A small crowd of students had gathered around them and they were betting.

"Ooh, Lindsey's going to wipe his arse off the board," said a Hufflepuff student.

"No, Jimmy will obviously win. He's gotten more than half her pieces smashed already," argued a Ravenclaw student. "He isn't in my house for nothing, in case you haven't noticed."

"Merlin's beard, I hope I don't lose the twenty Sickles I'm betting on Lindsey," Oliver, Ryan's fellow first-year Slytherin, mumbled worriedly under his breath.

"Twenty Sickles? I'm betting five Galleons on Jimmy so I'll be making a bigger loss than you will," a snooty-looking Gryffindor student said, giving Oliver the side-eye.

Ryan squeezed his way through to see Lindsey and Jimmy facing off each other in what looked like an intense game of wizard chess. "Who's winning?" he asked.

"No one. They're evenly matched," Oliver told Ryan.

Ryan watched as Jimmy's queen smashed Lindsey's knight into half with a loud crunch. He wasn't a fan of this game as he thought it was a bit barbaric for chess pieces to destroy each other during the game even though they'd be as good as new with a Repairing charm afterwards.

In the end, it was Lindsey who won the game, much to the disappointment of Ravenclaw. "I swear she was lucky!" Jimmy told his housemates who shook their heads while they paid off their bets to the Gryffindors. Once everyone had shuffled away and Jimmy and Lindsey cleared their chessboard up, Ryan asked whether his friends had started packing for their trip back home for Christmas.

"As if I'm going home with a messy trunk," Jimmy scoffed.

"Our families are planning to spend the holiday in Sweden with our cousins," she said.

The three of them talked about their plans for the holiday and all Ryan could think of was how he could see his mother again after months away from home.

▬▬▬

"Mum!" Ryan called out once he hopped out of the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9¾ of Kings Cross Station and spotted his mother.

Danielle's anxious expression gave way to a huge smile as her son ran towards her, with his trunk trailing behind him, and gave her a huge hug.

"Merry Christmas, Mum," Ryan said with a grin as his mother ruffled his hair affectionately.

"How was the ride?" Danielle asked.

"Tiring but I'm here now with you," Ryan said happily before looking around. He had his hand in hers and began to tug it. "Mum, I want you to meet my friends." He turned around about to point out his friends in the crowd when he saw a woman staring right at him from the crowd.

She had a pallid complexion that contrasted the color of her hair, which resembled darkest night, scraped into a tight bun on her head. Her features were so severe that the sight of her made Ryan falter and pale. He could tell she was tall as her head was visible over crowd. Despite the distance between them, he could feel the frigid and unforgiving gaze piercing into him.

Danielle noticed her son had gone very quiet and was staring off somewhere so she asked, "Is something the matter, dear?" She sounded worried.

"Mum, why is that woman staring at me like that?" Ryan's voice was shaking.

"What woman?" Danielle asked worriedly as her eyes searched the crowd for anyone who was looking at her son. But she saw no one. "Where?"

"You don't see her?" Ryan gave his mother an expression of disbelief before he pointed. "She's right --" he broke off abruptly for the strange woman was no longer in view. He could feel his heart palpitating in his chest like never before. "But ... she was right there." Before Ryan could explain himself, the crowd parted slightly, revealing the people he was looking for. He changed the subject hastily. "Never mind about that woman - there's Jimmy and Lindsey."

Even with the sight of his friends to slow down his fast heartbeat and fill him with relief, Ryan couldn't shake off his unease.


	5. it goes downhill

Ryan's pre-match jitters were running high today as Slytherin was going play against Gryffindor, who was their house rival, at Quidditch. It was now his third-year at Hogwarts, playing his second year for Slytherin team. As he pulled on his gloves, he was feeling nauseated and was starting to regret having a huge breakfast because the Quidditch captain, Fitri Shafiq, had told him so.

"Okay, remember the formations, alright?" she was told them, pacing about the locker room. "Gryffindor's got some really good players on their side like Henry Selwyn, Park Su Min and - Oh, watch out for their new Seeker, Lindsey Ballato. She's super fast," she added, despite having fed the team this information during practice many times.

"Hey isn't she from the third-year like Ryan?" One of their Beaters, Jenny Parkinson, asked as she was looking at the boy who was making sure the straps on his shin guards were secure.

"Yeah," Ryan answered. "She's my friend, actually."

Both he and Lindsey had attended the tryouts together when school reopened. They had initially wanted to fill in the Seeker position but Ryan's reaction time wasn't up to the standards Slytherin was looking for while Lindsey aced the Gryffindor tryouts with ease. Ryan now played the Chaser position on the team. Despite their friendship, when it came to Quidditch Lindsey and Ryan had a rivalry going on between them. Jimmy would've joined in but he didn't like Quidditch, much to their surprise, but was perfectly fine with cheering them on as a neutral supporter.

After a few banter exchange sessions and pep talks with the captain, it wasn't long till the Slytherin team was called to the pitch. "Alright, y'all," Fitri turned to the team as they lined up. Anyone could tell she was tense about the match because her posture was uncharacteristically rigid and she looked pale. "We've practiced a lot for this so I'd say we're well prepared for the match." Her eyes rested on each of her teammates gazes. "Today's the day we show them we stand the chance to win the Quidditch Cup!"

The team cheered loudly, pumping their fists in the air in attempts to keep their spirits high. As soon as they arrived on the pitch, deafening roars and raucous cheers erupted from the stands above them where the spectators were seated. One side of the stadium was filled with supporters of red and gold while the other side had crowds dressed in green and silver. The only area that wasn't sporting the opposing houses' colors was the VIP box where the teachers were seated, along with the two commentators for the match.

Ryan's ears were filled with a buzzing noise that seemed to drown out the voices around him. Both teams gathered around the center of the pitch where a hawkish-looking witch with spiky white hair and piercing yellow eyes behind a pair of goggles stood. Her name was Madam Hooch and she was the referee for today's match.

Ryan saw the Gryffindor captain and Fitri shake hands firmly before the referee. Despite the fact that both team captains were dating, anyone could sense rivalry radiating off the two. It was clear neither of them were planning to let the other off easy for the sake of their relationship. Madam Hooch reminded both sides to have a "clean game," because rival matches often had a tendency to be played unfairly. Even the Hufflepuffs who were all about fairness would gladly use underhand tactics when they saw necessary.

Ryan's eyes flitted from Madam Hooch and the captains to the opposing team. His eyes scanned carefully amongst the members before he saw Lindsey. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before she stuck out her tongue and mouthed, "You're going down." Ryan grinned and did the same when both teams were given the signal from Madam Hooch to get into position. All players waited with a bated breath. Ryan's heart was pounding, with every muscle of his body tightly tensed.

The next moment the Quaffle was thrown high in the air with the sound of Madam Hooch's whistle piercing the air.

Both teams exploded with action as everyone kicked off the ground in a scramble for the Quaffle. The first few moments were always the most confusing because the Chasers would compete for possession, which could sometimes end up messy. Fortunately, Ryan was never positioned to be the center Chaser but as an assist Chaser to be on standby for passes from his teammates, otherwise he'd be fighting tooth and nail against the opposing team.

The game was intense to begin with and the first thirty minutes of it had Ryan darting to and fro on the pitch. He hadn't scored a goal the whole season and it was mildly frustrating because as he was the youngest on the team, everyone treated him like someone who needed to take the backseat.

Gryffindor already had fifty points under their belt whereas Slytherin was behind them by twenty. The Snitch was yet to be spotted by both teams' Seekers who were flying around to see if they could find it by chance. The Bludgers were acting unusually aggressive today, flying around and nearly taking off the players' limbs or faces - though it was never proven everyone suspected the Bludgers were probably feeding off the pent-up energy from the players.

It was approaching the sixty-seventh minute when Ryan had gotten his hands on the Quaffle. As he was the closest to the hoops, Fitri gave the gesture for them to start switching formations, putting Ryan as the lead for their team's Chasers now. Excitement sparked a fire in his veins, filling him with a burst of energy. The team started switching to their offense formation, giving the opposing team a difficult time.

Slytherin managed to tie their score in fifteen minutes at ninety points for both teams. The Seekers were on the move now, chasing after the Snitch. Ryan caught the sight of it from the corner of his eye, a flash of gold - big mistake because he let it distract him when a Bludger hurtled towards his direction. He didn't realize until the last moment, only swerving sharply to his left to avoid collision.

"Ross, get your head in the game!" Jenny yelled at him, snapping him back to focus, before she directed a Bludger towards Gryffindor's Chasers with her bat. She looked very frustrated.

The Quaffle was back in possession by Slytherin and Ryan was pushing his speed to the limit on his  _Cleansweep_ _11_  with the ball tucked under his arm. He was about to score a goal by launching the Quaffle into one of the three hoops when someone crashed into him. He was so focused on looking for any weak spots in the Keeper's defense, he didn't know if whoever that crashed into him had done it on purpose or not.

The force of impact of someone's body hitting Ryan caused pain to explode in his side. He got knocked off his broom in process. Plunging through the air like a rock, he screamed before crashing onto the ground below the hoops. The wind was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for breath. He tried to focus on breathing but the pain was distracting him.

There was the sound of Hooch's whistle when his teammates landed around him. There were a few protests rising from the Beaters as they called one of the Gryffindor Chasers for barreling into Ryan on purpose but for the most part they were all very concerned about him. Madam Hooch asked if Ryan would like to leave the game as he seemed to be having difficulties but he waved her off. "I swear, I'm fine!" he told his teammates who were staring at him as if he'd broken an arm or something. "I'll get checked for injuries later."

Ryan's brain was running on a chemical rush from the game and he needed to ride that out.

Grabbing his broom, he launched into the air and back into the game. The match was starting to become tougher and more demanding by the minute. A few players on both sides were caught committing fouls. Though Ryan tried to ignore it, the pain in his ribs was starting to become less and less bearable. It took a toll on him because a few times when he coughed pain would arc up his back.

A full hour and twenty-three minutes had passed when the Seekers flew at a vertical incline a frenzy, clamoring for that tiny golden ball. Just as the Slytherin Chasers neared the goal, the center pulled in a steep dive downwards, causing the Gryffindor Chasers to crash into the ground when she flung the Quaffle. Ryan who was starting to feel dizzy with pain was too surprised to catch the ball that his instincts took over his brain.

In a split second, he swung his arm outwards which connected with the Quaffle. The ball bounced off his stiff arm guard, jarring his shoulder in the process but it pelted right through the center hoop; the Keeper was too surprised by the recent chain of events to defend. The moment the Quaffle passed through the hoop, there was an eruption of deafening noise from the stands with the commentators babbling excitedly.

Ryan turned around to see the Slytherin Seeker high up in the air, pumping his fist triumphantly. There was a flash of gold in between his fingers.

Slytherin won the match.

▬▬▬

"You don't have to follow me all the way here," Ryan said while Lindsey and Jimmy watched on. "I mean, Madam Pomfrey can patch me up in a jiffy, right Madam Pomfrey?" He craned his head to look at the nurse, who was applying an ointment on his back for his bruised ribs. He was lying on his stomach on one of the beds in the hospital wing, having arrived here after the match against Gryffindor.

"Darn right you are, young man," Madam Pomfrey responded, rubbing on the last of the ointment on his skin. "Now I recommend you not to strain yourself too much tonight otherwise you'll take longer to heal," she advised as Ryan sat up.

"Yes and thank you so much, Madam." Ryan put his shirt on and got out of bed. He and his friends left the hospital wing, now speculating about how Slytherin would celebrate their victory over their rival house, Gryffindor.

"I heard from Matty your house is throwing a party tonight." Lindsey regarded Ryan questioningly as they joined the crowds of students in the hallway leading towards the Great Hall for dinner. "Is that true?" she asked.

"Your house must be really bitter about losing to call it a victory party," Ryan opined. "It's not; it's more of a 'Thank goodness the Quidditch rival match is over so we can go back to being friends' kind of party. Every house gets a chance to celebrate it."

"Why have I not heard of this?" Jimmy asked, perplexed.

"They must've used the  _Muffliato_  spell so you wouldn't hear the racket going on during the party," Ryan answered. When Jimmy gave him an incredulous look, Ryan added, "They never invite anyone below the third-year to the party."

"Jeez, why not?"

"I honestly never bothered to ask," Ryan said airily. "Do you guys want to come over?" he asked. "Fitri said it was fine if I wanted to invite my friends as long as they are old enough."

"Ooh that should be fun," Lindsey said, looking excited. "I think your house will be breaking a lot of rules and everyone might get into trouble but will there be cake?"

"The Hufflepuffs are handling the food and drinks," Ryan clarified. "They do live near the kitchen after all and the house elves seem to like them."

"This party should fun," Jimmy said. "I think I'll ask my seniors if it's alright for me to invite some of my other friends."

"As long as they're not below the third-year," Ryan reminded as they entered the Great Hall. "Also, don't get caught by Filch or the professors on the way," he added.

The teachers had spared no time putting up decorations so that the place would have a festive feel. Christmas trees lined the sides of the room with garlands along the walls, all of which were bearing tiny floating spheres of color light around them. The ceiling was enchanted to let snow fall although Ryan suspected it was an illusion charm because when snowflakes neared the heads of students they vanished.

The three of them went their separate ways and Ryan managed to find a seat next to Haru. Tonight's feast was delicious even the Bloody Baron, who was the House Ghost, looked like he wanted a bite too. Everyone was busy chattering away and enjoying their meals before all too soon the food was finished and it was time to return to their dorms.

When the Slytherins arrived at their common room, the senior herded the first and second years away, confirming Ryan's suspicions about using the Muffliato charm when all the younger students were in their dorms. The seniors then gathered and began to decorate the common room. They had it all planned before but couldn't get it done because there had been a house inspection carried out by the Head of House, Professor Slughorn. Ryan was helping Dennis attach party balloons to the wall when the clock struck midnight.

"Okay, they should all be here by now!" One of the fifth year students announced while others volunteered to wait outside for the guests; they had to keep the common room entrance open so that they wouldn't reveal the password to their friends. Soon, students from different houses streamed into the room.

Ryan saw the Hufflepuffs using a Levitating charm to carry the food and drinks into the room and was about to see if there was anything he'd like to eat later when he heard someone call his name. Heart leaping, he turned, expecting to find his friends when he saw a group of giggling girls. He wasn't sure what their names were but he smiled amiably at them. "How can I help you?" he asked.

"We just wanted to congratulate you for scoring the last goal," one of them said.

"Yeah, we think it was really cool how you scored the same time Kieran caught the Snitch," another said.

"Oh, it was coincidence really." Ryan's mind wasn't on the conversation any longer as he glanced around to find his friends. When he was about to excuse himself, he felt someone throw their arm around him and he jumped in surprise.

"Yeah, it was pretty cool, wasn't it?" The person turned out to be Jimmy. "I'm Ryan's friend, Jimmy Urine." He extended his hand at the girls to which they shook briefly.

"Uh, we've got to go. I think Judy wanted to use the loo." Without saying anymore, they hurried away.

"Jeez," Jimmy looked annoyed but disappointed for the most part.

"Better luck next time, perhaps." Ryan patted his shoulder. They went to look for Lindsey afterwards, finding her talking to a Hufflepuff girl.

Things were going great. Music was enchanted to play in the room and laughter filling the place, making the atmosphere livelier. The food was delicious too but there were some drinks the seniors forbade Ryan from touching because he wasn't old enough to have them. Fitri had stood up on one of the tables and was shouting something over the music, some kind of warning or reminder Ryan didn't quite catch.

The party was going well for the first hour and a half. Even some of the ghosts had joined when suddenly the common room entrance opened. Everyone stopped, heads turning to find Professor Slughorn standing there with an expression that was beyond bewildered on his face. The music came to an abrupt stop and everyone fell silent.

"Did some idiot rat us out?" Ryan heard someone behind him ask worriedly.

"What," Slughorn began, looking from all the guilty faces in the room, "are all you students doing out of bed?"

At first everyone didn't dare to answer when Haru and Rachel came forward and said, "Party's over, get your arses out of the place  _immediately_." Numerous of apologies and words of disapproval were heard as the non-Slytherins left the common room. The Slytherins, red-faced with guilt, all stood before a weary-looking Slughorn who gave them all a long speech about breaking many school rules and going on about how disappointed he was in them before taking a hundred and fifty points off the house.

He sent them all to bed but just as Ryan was about to join his roommates, Slughorn called him over. Feeling his insides constrict with worry, he turned to the professor. Ryan was frantically thinking of what he did wrong to have caused Slughorn to visit the common room this hour when the professor said, "Have a seat, Mr Ross."

Ryan did as he was told, his lower lip caught in between his teeth as he sat with Slughorn beside the fire. "What did I do wrong, sir?" he asked.

"Wrong?" Slughorn gave him a frown. "Why would you say that?"

Ryan shrugged, thinking about how the common room was now messy because of the party.

Professor Slughorn was portly old man with balding hair. Ryan heard he preferred the company of upper-year students who showed potential in either academics or sports. Ryan was faring well in studies though he happened to be very good in Charms, but that didn't quite add up for the possibility the professor was here for a chat. In fact, Slughorn was regarding Ryan with a strange expression.

"Mr Ross, I have something to tell you. It's about your mother." The tone Slughorn used made Ryan feel uneasy.

"What's wrong?"

"Your mother has been admitted to St Mungo's Hospital following a near-fatal attack by a wizard tonight," Slughorn answered.

Face going pale, Ryan stared at the Head of the House for a few seconds, trying to figure out if this man was joking. Yes, working as an Auror had its occupational hazards like being hexed by wizards gone bad but that usually happened on duty, according to Ryan's knowledge. But Slughorn didn't look like he was fooling around and Ryan thought he felt his heart sucked into a hole.

"What?" His voice had risen into nearly a shout. "What do you mean my mother's at St Mungo's?" he demanded. "What day is it today?"

Taken aback by the last question, Slughorn responded belatedly. "Tuesday. But I don't see how --"

"She's not on duty tonight. She can't  _possibly_  be attacked by anyone!"

"She was attacked unprovoked at home," Slughorn clarified.

It was like all the air had rushed out of Ryan's lungs, even with his chest rising and falling. He couldn't breathe, not after hearing what happened to his mother.

 _Near-fatal attack. St Mungo's Hospital. Unprovoked._  His mother could be dying and there he was earlier, partying with everyone else.

As if from a distance, Ryan could hear Slughorn telling him to calm down - useless, because what was the point of calming himself down when the only person from his family who cared about could be dead at this point. Slughorn was speaking to him but Ryan's ears were filled with an unidentifiable buzzing. His mind was racing with horrible images of his mother getting hurt, not physically but with fatal curses.

"Take me to St Mungo's." Ryan was unaware he had cut the professor off in midsentence. "Please Sir, I  _need_  to be there!"

Slughorn's mouth was open before he shut it. Placing a hand on Ryan, he said, "My boy, we should wait for --"

"She's my  _only_  family," his voice cracked with desperation. " _Please_."

Professor Slughorn looked like he wanted to say no to Ryan and send him off to bed, but Ryan was about to cry and if he was sent back to his dorm, he'd probably go mad. So Slughorn's mouth folded into a thin line. "Very well. Go get changed, young man," he said.

Ryan didn't waste time to run to his dorm.

▬▬▬

It was the wait to receive approval from Headmistress McGonagall that was agonizing, not the Side-Along Apparition to St Mungo's. Ryan was asked to wait outside for what felt like a thousand years when it was about fifteen minutes before a worn-looking Slughorn emerged from the office. They were then escorted by the caretaker Filch to just outside of the wrought-iron gates of Hogwarts where Slughorn could perform a Side-Along Apparition with Ryan to transport him to the hospital in London - they couldn't do it on school grounds because of Anti-Apparition jinxes in the area.

The Apparition part would've felt to Ryan as highly uncomfortable but he was too sick with worry he didn't register the unpleasant sensation of being squeezed through a tight rubber tube. Him and Slughorn arrived at the window a red-bricked, condemned department store called  _Purge and Dowse, Ltd_. After speaking to one of the dummies by the window, they stepped through the glass and vanished.

Both Ryan and Slughorn were standing in a crowded reception area where there were rows of witches and wizards sitting. Some looked perfectly normal while others sported gruesome disfigurements as a result of Transfiguring spells gone wrong. Ryan didn't spare a moment to stare as he left Slughorn and tore off towards the reception desk.

"I need to see my mother!" Ryan exclaimed, his voice catching with desperation.

The receptionist looked miffed at him for shouting at her and said, "I'm sorry, but only family members can visit her and --"

"I'm  _her son_." Ryan didn't know he was starting to make the people in the room uncomfortable with the volume of his voice and tone he was using. His heart was pounding and there was this sudden ringing in his ears.

"Please come back during visiting hours," the receptionist said stubbornly as if she couldn't care, gesturing at the sign next to Ryan's left hand on the desk that showed the times when the wards would be open for visitors.

Suddenly, the flower vase in the corner of the waiting room imploded violently as a result of a manifestation of Ryan's frustration. He could feel his skin starting to heat up and he was considering bolting towards the corridor to the side when Slughorn placed a hand on his shoulder. The professor then had a few words with the receptionist before she gave in and gave them directions to find Danielle.

Slughorn thanked the receptionist, made Ryan apologize to her for yelling which he refused because all he wanted was to see his mother, apologized to the receptionist for Ryan's misbehavior before they left to look for Ryan's mother.

"She's on the fourth floor at Ward 47," Slughorn said as he led Ryan. They made their way down the double doors and along a narrow corridor to the stairs. There were portraits of famous Healers, which could move just like in Hogwarts, except those people in the pictures glanced at both Slughorn and Ryan with interest before looking away as if they had lost interest. Crystal bubbles containing candles floated up in the ceiling, providing illumination.

Ryan and Slughorn were climbing a couple flights of stairs - the boy raced up ahead but stopped every now and then impatiently for the old professor to catch up - until they reached the fourth floor. Ryan broke into a jog when he and Slughorn entered the corridor that led to wards 45 to 50. He nearly missed Ward 47 and only saw the number at the last second; he backtracked and stood at the door.

It took all of Ryan's willpower not to kick it down and wake all the patients staying in the room. When Slughorn caught up with him Ryan held the professor by sleeve, his hand gripping the fabric so tightly there was the possibility of tearing it. As they were about to enter the ward a wizard, whom Ryan judged was a Healer from the robes which was similar to the people in the portraits downstairs, emerged from the ward with a grave expression.

He gave a start when he saw Slughorn and Ryan but said, "Evenin', how may I help you?"

"Is she in there? My mother, I mean," he said abruptly. The heavy weight of worry in Ryan's stomach seemed to have gained weight when he noticed the Healer's expression - was that pity? It made Ryan feel unsettled.

The Healer said nothing to Ryan but turned to Slughorn and spoke as if Ryan wasn't there. "I believe he will be distraught if he sees the condition his mother is in," the Healer said. "Perhaps it is best if he's had some rest before --"

Ryan wasn't having any of the Healer's excuses not to let him see his mother; letting go of Slughorn's sleeve, he pushed past the Healer into the ward. The room was small and dingy, with a strange scent of medicine and herbs lingering in the stifling air. There was yet another portrait of some Healer with a haughty look on their face, and that person leered at Ryan as if they suspected Ryan to be a carrier of dragon pox.

There were only two patients in the ward. A leaden feeling was weighing Ryan's stomach down as he spotted Danielle's recumbent figure on the bed at the furthest end of the room by the windows. It could've been the dimness fooling his eyes as there was only two of those crystal bubbles lighting the room. But as Ryan walked forward with hesitation in his pace, he knew the argument he thought of to counteract his initial suspicion was incorrect.

A part of Ryan's heart felt like it had died when he got a clearer and closer view of his mother's condition. He froze in his tracks, losing his ability to breathe in that moment.

Ryan's mother was unconscious but that was not what made him stop. Horrible couldn't even describe Danielle's appearance. At least half of her visible skin looked like it had died and rotted. Whatever it was, it seemed to be spreading slowly. Salves had been applied here and there to halt the progress of whatever this condition was but it was obvious that it was ineffective. Had Ryan looked past the horrible affliction eating away at her skin, he would've thought she was asleep.

Everything felt like it had melted down into a single emotion that rent his entire being: heartbreak.

Ryan's body began to shake on its own accord. His breaths were becoming erratic. He opened his mouth, to call Danielle, but his voice had disappeared and left him making choked noises.

Slughorn stood away from where the mother and son were with an expression mixed with pity and sadness. Rarely was he overcome with any emotion for anyone other than himself but seeing the look on Ryan's face Slughorn didn't move to comfort the boy but remained there so Ryan knew there was someone he could turn to when it became too much.

But Ryan didn't notice the professor.

A part of Ryan knew Danielle's chances of surviving the aftermath of whatever horrible curse was near to zero.

There Ryan was, taking a step towards his mother, and another until he was standing by her bed. And then, without fearing for that whatever was affecting his mother would be transmitted to him, Ryan climbed carefully into bed beside her. He laid his head on her chest where he could hear her heartbeat.

It was gradually becoming weaker.


	6. grieving

Danielle passed away the next morning, succumbing to the effect of the curse that was laid upon her by the wizard who attacked her unprovoked. The Healers came to collect her body for postmortem examinations. They had to haul Ryan away from his mother's body, with him yelling furiously and thrashing at them in his state of distress. He even bit one of them when they tried to calm him down. In the end, Slughorn, who stayed the whole night to make sure Ryan was okay, casted a spell that caused the boy to fall unconscious.

Ryan came to a few hours later in his empty dorm room, from a nightmare involving watching a faceless wizard inflict a curse on his mother. For a few minutes, he lay there in his bed, wondering if the night before had all just a horrible dream just like his nightmare; he wished it was because it would've made everything so much easier for him.

But he could remember the details from last night vividly; how his spirits had been running high after the Slytherin-Gryffindor Quidditch finals before crashing low when Slughorn told him the news, how his mother had breathed her last breath without saying goodbye to him in the wee hours of the morning and how he had fought against the Healers when they tried to pull him away from her body.

The backs of his eyes began to sting and soon enough tears were running down his face and dripping onto his pillowcase. He made no sound when he cried, staring up at the ceiling with tears misting his vision. His body was shaking again, the movement causing his sore muscles to complain with aches.

A part of him wished Dottie was with him, wished that they'd snuggle next to his cheek and comfort him with their presence like they used to do when Ryan's parents divorced. But Dottie had passed away months ago during Easter so Ryan truly was on his own.

Ryan was so caught up in his emotions he didn't notice a house elf waiting by his bed and watching him.

"Master Ross is awake!" the house elf exclaimed shrilly all of a sudden, startling Ryan, who fell out of bed in shock. Letting out a cry, the elf rushed over to where Ryan had landed in a heap on the floor and offered a skinny hand to help the boy up. "Penny is very sorry! Penny did not means to startle Master Ross!" the house elf said in a frightened tone when Ryan glared through his tears, not knowing it was the elf who woke him and thinking it was one of his mischievous roommates.

All his life in Hogwarts, Ryan had heard house-elves were in charge of kitchen and cleaning duties in the castle but he had never met one up close. Penny, as the house elf called herself, was about three feet tall and had bat-like ears that drooped on the sides of her head. She wore a something that looked like an old pillowcase on her body and wore no shoes on her large feet.

Ryan didn't mean to glare at her but Penny seemed to have thought he was angry at her so when she helped him up, she dropped to her knees and made a pleading gesture. "Please forgive Penny - it was Head of the Slytherin House who ordered her to looks after Master Ross."

"What?" Ryan stared at her in confusion, momentarily forgetting that he was crying earlier. He didn't mean for his voice to come out sounding harsh but his tone gave Penny a scare.

_Crack!_

She disappeared into thin air, leaving Ryan even more confused. Staring at the spot where Penny had Apparated for a few seconds, he peered around his dorm. All the beds where his friends slept were all made neatly and their trunks which had been there the night ago was gone. They had all gone back home for Christmas, possibly on the Hogwarts Express while Ryan was stuck here.

Walking into the bathroom, Ryan was greeted with the reflection of himself on the mirror; despite having enough rest not to drop dead he might as well collapse there. His eyes were looking as if they would turn red if he cried some more. He looked very tired and pale. His hair was also in a disheveled state, causing him to look all the more pitiful. He stared at himself, detachedly wondering who that reflection was and how he had become that way in a short amount of time, when the fact that he was all alone, not just in the moment but also that he had nobody else waiting for him back at home, made a numbness to spread through him.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Don't come in," Ryan's voice was hoarse. He hadn't realized how tight his throat felt earlier. "Leave me alone."

"It's Professor Slughorn," said the person on the other side of the door. "I have something to tell you." It was the very same words he had said to Ryan the night before.

This snapped something in Ryan.

"No."

"I'm sorry?"

" _No_ ," Ryan repeated himself, saying the word louder and with more force. "I don't want to hear what you're going to tell me because the last time you said that it turned out to bad news!" he spat angrily. Detachedly, he knew by speaking disrespectfully to a teacher would have House points deducted; Slytherin had already lost enough points the night before but he didn't care. He wanted some time alone. Everything was moving too fast.

Ryan heard shuffling from behind the door followed by the sound of footsteps which grew softer and softer. He waited a minute before wiping his face furiously and unlocked the door. Slughorn had already left the room.

▬▬▬

This Christmas was the worst Christmas Ryan had ever spent. It was supposed to be the time of the year when he'd get to spend time with his mother but Death had robbed him of that opportunity and gave him his mother's funeral to attend instead, leaving him miserable and full of grief on what would've been a merry holiday.

He spoke to no one, not even to Slughorn; he didn't even feel sorry for snapping at the Head of Slytherin. It was only the day following his mother's death when Ryan learned of what Slughorn wanted to tell him, which was relayed through Rachel, the Slytherin prefect who was now in her seventh and final year.

Ryan had been by himself in the deserted common room, haunting in the area where the walls and ceilings were all made of glass. He could see the lake from here like an aquarium and it had become his favorite spot currently - it was always crowded during school terms and he never got the chance to enjoy the view. Not that he enjoyed it now, it was just that he'd rather be alone.

Ryan was watching the giant squid swim lazily through the water in the distance when Rachel came to sit next to him. She didn't say anything at first, unlike those two fourth-years, who had stayed back and asked him if he was alright so many times that he lost his temper and snapped at them; at least Rachel was being considerate. Ryan appreciated her silence and her company.

"Why are you here?" he asked her.

Rachel looked at him then back at the windows where the giant squid had approached was spying on them with its large, dinner-plate-sized eye. "I was just checking on you," she said. "How are you feeling?"

Ryan gave a noncommittal shrug and continued to watch the giant squid.

"Has Professor Flitwick taught you Cheering Charms?" Rachel asked.

Ryan let out a noise that was between a scoff and a snort. "Yes, but don't suggest using them on me or ask me if I've tried using it on myself. The charm's effect is temporary. It won't work for me, not with the mood I'm in," he said.

Rachel gave him a long and measured look. "I heard about your mother," she began and Ryan tensed. "Listen, I know what it's like to lose a parent."

"Yeah, I  _bet_  you do."

Rachel opened her mouth then closed it, taken aback by Ryan's cold tone. "It helps if you talk to someone," she said. "Well, maybe not now, but just someone who --"

"Why are you  _really_  here, Rachel?" Ryan turned to look at her. "Don't give me that look - I know there's something you want to talk about," he added.

Rachel's cheeks turned red as her hair. "Slughorn told me to tell you about - well, he said your father's taking full custody of you." The incredulous scowl on Ryan's face was enough to cause Rachel to blanch. "I'd really love to answer your questions but I'm only here to pass the message on," she said apologetically.

Ryan couldn't believe his ears. There was no way on any plane of existence was he going to live with his father. The man had practically walked out of his life when he was little and here Rachel was telling him he had to live with his estranged father. "If my father cared about me, he would've stayed, or at least visited - then maybe my mother wouldn't have died." His voice was as bitter and cold. "Don't talk to me about moving in to live with my father - he  _doesn_ _'t_  love me."

Rachel could only give Ryan a look that was an admixture of sadness and sympathy. She looked like she wanted to say something to him but held back, biting her lip. "Maybe you should speak with Slughorn. He knows more details about your matter than I do."

Ryan went back to staring at the Black Lake. "It doesn't matter," he said flatly. Afterwards, Rachel gave him a pat on the shoulder and left him by himself. He spent another hour staring at the underwater scenery to the point that he was now lying on the cold stone floor instead of sitting on one of those green beanbags.

▬▬▬

It was clear from the way Ryan's maternal relatives had acted around him during Danielle's funeral a few days later that they didn't want him around. They had all gave him furtive sideways glances, whispering in hushed tones amongst each other and regarding Ryan as if he carried the plague. Ryan had a solid guess on what they were afraid of. They feared whoever attacked his mother would come for Ryan as well. What's to say he wouldn't carry bad luck on his shoulders anyway and bring it to their homes had his custody been transferred to any of them?

Ryan had followed Rachel's suggestion, a tiny part of him holding on desperately to the hope that Slughorn might be able help pull strings - after all, he had made many connections in the wizarding world through his students - but the old man had simply shook his head and told Ryan that he could do nothing to help Ryan's case.

So Ryan left Slughorn's office in a foul mood, which led to more crying and more self-loathing that carried on till the end of the Christmas break.

Ryan didn't want anyone's pity; it was already intolerable that he'd been asked questions on how he was feeling during the break by his housemates who had stayed back but to have everyone ganging up and asking him - he was certain he might hex someone out of spite. It seemed that his mood was affecting everyone because even his friends whom he shared dorms with had become intimidated by him. Even Peeves, the mischievous poltergeist who loved to play pranks on every student, avoided him whenever he passed by.

The only people who hadn't been affected by his mood was both Jimmy and Lindsey. They tried to include him in every activity they had, dragging him along even if he snapped at them, holding onto the hope they could cheer him up together.

The rest of the term running till the end of the year was awful. Grieving for an extended period of time was unhealthy but nobody told Ryan that and it was affecting him in many ways.

Ryan's academic performance was sinking faster than a stone in water. Even with help from his friends constantly reminding him to get on with revision and homework, Ryan didn't see the point in putting effort if he wasn't making anyone proud - not even himself. He was falling behind in studies and there wasn't anything he wanted to do about it.

Not only that, his performance on the Quidditch field worsened, which hardly went unnoticed by everyone. Concerned for him, Fitri suggested he resign from the team until he felt better. He didn't have any protests but from the looks of everyone's faces as he walked off the pitch, he knew they were expecting him to put up an argument insisting he was fine.

He used to love going to Hogsmeade (a little all-wizarding village near the school) during weekends with his friends but now he'd rather stay in his dorm and sleep all day. In fact, he would go great lengths these days to avoid social contact.

"If you need anything, we're here for you," Lindsey said as she sat down beside Ryan on the grass on a grassy slope outside the castle. "Right, Jimmy?"

"Totally," Jimmy responded as he handed packed lunches smuggled from the kitchens to Lindsey and Ryan. Even if he tried not to show it, Jimmy was just as concerned as Lindsey was, if not slightly more. "Also, eat up. It's your favorite: masala chicken pie," he urged Ryan who had opened his lunch but was nibbling tiny pieces of his food without much appetite.

"Thanks," Ryan responded, having a few bites of the pie before setting the lunch down. He didn't feel like eating anyway.

Both Lindsey and Jimmy exchanged worried looks, which had become a recently acquired habit of theirs. "Have you heard from your father lately?" Jimmy asked carefully.

A scowl formed on Ryan's features. "No, I haven't and I don't care about him," he said. It was a lie. He had been receiving letters from his father by owl since his mother's funeral every week but there was a growing stack of them sitting on his nightstand, unopened and unread.

Lindsey's mouth folded into a thin line as a tiny concerned frown grew on her brow. "Well, he might not be as bad as you think," she said.

Ryan's eyes narrowed at her. "Not as bad as I think?" he echoed after Lindsey. "What kind of father walks out of their son's lives without even bothering to explain the reason he did it?" His voice had turned harsh. "I don't want to have anything to do with a man like him," he said stubbornly.

"He's your only family," Jimmy said under his breath. "And he's the only one who's willing to take you in --" he broke off when Ryan gave him a death glare. "I mean, he  _has_  to care enough about you to do that, right?" Jimmy looked to Lindsey for help.

Ryan had had enough. Slamming his Transfiguration textbook shut (not that he had been revising for his exam later anyway) he got up and walked off without a word.

Yes, Ryan appreciated their efforts but to him, this was one step beyond the line. George had left Ryan and his mother and had given no clear indication that he wanted to come back to their lives so of course Ryan had a reason to not open his arms readily. Besides, what's to say if George wasn't in it for the money Ryan inherited from his mother? There were also many possibilities to be considered as to why George was willing to take Ryan in when his maternal relatives didn't and doing so out of love wasn't that.

There was no way George could love Ryan.

▬▬▬

When the results for the year-end exams came out on the last week of school, Ryan received news he had done poorly for his subjects - even Charms.

"Have they ever retained a student at Hogwarts?" a worried Jimmy asked Lindsey when the saw Ryan's report sheet. He had to speak loudly over the noise of numerous conversations taking place in the Great Hall they walked out of.

"I was going to ask you that question," Lindsey mumbled.

"Do I look like  _I_  know?"

"You  _are_  in the house of smart people."

"If you think I'm smart, Ravenclaw considers me a dunce." Jimmy's lips folded into a line when he noticed Ryan's expression. "Not that Lindsey and I think you're gonna be held back a year," Jimmy said. "We just want --"

"I opened my Dad's letters," Ryan cut Jimmy off. This came as a surprise to his friends because they thought he had probably discarded them - Ryan had considered it - but at some point last night when he stood by the fireplace in the common room, his hands gripping the stack of letters tightly, he had balked at the last second and went back to his dorm. Nobody was there at that time, which was great because he could read his letters privately.

Ryan had nearly torn the envelope containing the first letter he received from his father into half when he tried to open it due to his shaking hands. He had barely read and digested the contents of it before opening to the next envelope until all of them were read. The last one had nearly the same content as all of the rest, asking him how Ryan was feeling and that his father still cared about him, but the only thing that was different in that letter was the last paragraph that said, " _I'll be waiting for you at the platform at the end of your term. We'll be going to America after we collect your belongings from your mother's house_."

Ryan told them a brief description of what his father wrote before saying, "I don't want to move to America."

Both Lindsey and Jimmy stared at him. "Why not?" Lindsey asked, the tiniest hint of incredulity coloring her tone.

"Because I'd rather be here," Ryan said flatly. "And I don't want to be anywhere near him."

"He's your dad," Jimmy whispered.

"He's not. I may be of his blood but he walked out of my life so I don't consider him as my father," Ryan said coldly. "A father is supposed to be there for their son and was he there for me all these years? No."

"Maybe you should give him a chance," Lindsey suggested in a placating tone. "He must have had reasons you didn't understand when he left. Plus, if he's writing you letters it might mean he's willing to set things right between the two of you."

"He's just taking me in because the law says so and that my relatives don't want me," Ryan argued. "And I don't want to walk into a house where I'd find a family he brought up with another person."

His friends stayed silent for a minute after that. "It doesn't matter anyway." It was Jimmy who spoke. He looked at Ryan with a serious expression on his face. "You'll probably be spending most of your time at school - that's if you spend the rest of your breaks there at ... at whatever they call it --"

"Ilvermorny," Lindsey offered.

"Ilvermorny, yeah. If you spend your breaks there, except for summer, you'll only need to spend approximately a year with your father until you turn eighteen years old," Jimmy said. "And then after that you could just leave if you want. No strings attached - easier said than done but you get the point, right?"

Ryan wore a frown that no longer showed exasperation but contemplation on his face. Jimmy did have a point. If he could spend a majority of his time at school then staying with his father every summer wouldn't matter that much. Ryan could always pretend his father didn't exist if it helped. But would it be easy to do so if George would constantly make effort for him and Ryan to get closer? Ryan shuddered inwardly at the thought. No way was he forgiving his father so easily just because he needed a parental figure in his life.

Lindsey stared at Jimmy with slight disapproval on her features, wondering how Jimmy could even suggest such a thing, even if he had a valid point, before facing Ryan. She sighed and then placed her hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Whatever happens, we support you. Okay?" she said earnestly, "If you need anything, write to us."

▬▬▬

The weight in Ryan's stomach which composed of a mix of apprehension and dread was making him highly uncomfortable on the ride back to Kings Cross Station. With every mile drawing closer and closer to his father who had promised to wait for him, Ryan wondered if it was still too late for him to attempt to open the compartment window and throw himself out of it. Jimmy and Lindsey had made sure he couldn't do that by placing a charm that would keep the windows locked until they reached their destination.

The compartment he was sitting in was packed; he, Lindsey and Jimmy had to share it with two fifth-year Hufflepuffs and a second-year Ravenclaw. It was too noisy for him and he had to walk out of it a few times with the excuse he'd look for the Trolley Lady or use the restroom. Every time he did it, Jimmy and Lindsey took turns to accompany him to make sure he didn't do anything stupid.

Ryan should've been grateful. However, by the sixth time he got up to go to the restroom because he needed to and not because he wanted to avoid hearing the Ravenclaw babble about "fascinating Muggle devices called smartphones," Lindsey and Jimmy had stood up the same time offering to accompany him. Ryan was annoyed.

"I'm just going to take a piss, I swear," Ryan protested when Jimmy was the one who stepped out of the compartment with him. "It's not like I can drown myself in the toilet."

"I know you love my surname but please, for the love of Merlin, don't drown yourself in a bowl full of urine," Jimmy said, making Ryan groan and roll his eyes at the terrible joke. Jimmy grinned, clapping Ryan on the shoulder. "Well, it's good to see that you're responsive enough to be annoyed with my jokes."

"Piss off, Urine."

When they returned from the bathroom, Lindsey was having a lively debate with the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuffs about love potions. "No, amortentia does not equal to consent," Lindsey said firmly when Jimmy and Ryan entered. "Oh good, Ryan's here." She held Ryan by the arm and then presented him to the other students. "Ryan, your Head of the Slytherin is Professor Slughorn, right?"

Ryan shook her hand off with an expression of annoyance, something he would never have done, and said, "Duh."

"And he's the Potions Master, right?"

"Why is this topic relevant?"

"Did Slughorn say anything about the use of love potions?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Jimmy cut into the conversation, facing the questioning gazes of the students. "The person isn't themself when they're under the influence of the love potion so obviously they're in no condition to make independent and rational decisions. If you want to get a person's attention, throw a damn ball at them."

"And I thought you said you're a dunce in Ravenclaw," Lindsey muttered under her breath.

"But love potions --" said one of the Hufflepuffs.

"Love can't save you. Love doesn't save  _anything_ ," Ryan said bitterly. Lindsey's hand was on his shoulder and Jimmy was holding his arm. The tightness of grips didn't seem to bother Ryan and neither did the frightened look on the students' faces stop Ryan from going on his tirade. "My love didn't save my mother from getting attacked in her own home. My mother's love didn't save her marriage with the man who --"

"Oh, will you look at the time? Let's take a walk, Ryan." Lindsey said, starting to haul her friend away.

"And what the potion makes a person feel is obsession." Ryan told the students while Jimmy tried to make him exit the compartment. "That  _isn_ _'t_  love, that's madness. So whatever rosy image you --"

The rest of Ryan's words were cut off when Lindsey pulled the door shut. He gave the two of his solemn-faced friends murderous glares. "What did you two do that for?" he demanded.

"If you want to take out your daddy issues on anyone, it's gotta be us," Lindsey said first in a reproachful tone, tucking a strand of hair away from her face. "You can't just ...  _go around and snap at people like that_." Her voice shook at the end.

"I can snap at whoever I want --"

"This isn't you, Ryan," Jimmy cut Ryan off. Even if he didn't look as shaken as Lindsey was, he looked he was at wit's end with Ryan. When Ryan looked at him, he sighed. "We don't want you to do something you'll regret or turn into a person that's - that's  _plain horrid_."

Ryan stared at Jimmy then at Lindsey with lips parted. His face was a mask of disbelief and hurt as though he'd been slapped. The two cousins were looking at him the same way. He closed his mouth, a scowl forming on his face before it melted away. "I'm not horrid," he whispered in a small voice.

Lindsey blinked as she pursed her lips. "We know. We're just - we've been worried sick for you."

Ryan didn't say anything for a few moments. "Can I have a hug?" he asked softly.

Lindsey did this kind of sigh-sob while Jimmy cracked up a little. "Sure you can, buddy. Sure you can," Lindsey said.

And the two of them sandwiched Ryan into a hug, making the cold inside him melt away with a little bit of warmth.

▬▬▬

When the three friends stepped off the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9¾, Lindsey and Jimmy had taken the trouble to flank Ryan and accompany him as they searched for his father. Though Ryan found it unnecessary, he appreciated the effort and support they were giving him. After collecting their belongings from the compartments, they waited at one of the benches whilst keeping a lookout for Ryan's father.

"What does he look like anyway?" Lindsey finally asked after pointing out the wrong man.

"Does he look like you?" Jimmy inquired Ryan.

Ryan opened his mouth to answer then closed it. This was the one moment he regretted smothering every details of his father's features to a near faceless man because now he wasn't certain as to what his father  _actually_  looked like. He did know that he resembled his father in some way though he didn't know what kind of way. Ryan gave a shrug.

Jimmy's jaw tightened but he said nothing and went back to staring at every male passersby to see if they shared any physical features that was similar to Ryan's.

"Do you have a photograph of him?" Lindsey asked.

"Obviously not," Ryan responded. Then with a sigh, he stood up. "I really don't believe my father is here at all," he said with a bitter note. "He probably just sent all those letters thinking I'd be fooled by --"

"Ryan?" The three children looked up to find a man standing before them with a look on his face that was half-relief and half-hesitation. He was regarding Ryan, who was staring back at him with an unreadable expression. The man seemed unfazed by the directness of Ryan's gaze and offered an amiable but sheepish smile.

Both Lindsey and Jimmy exchanged looks before they got to their feet, followed by Ryan who stood as if he was forced to.

"You must be Ryan's father?" Lindsey asked without preamble while her eyes raked up and down the man warily. He did look like Ryan in distinct ways, from the shape of his eyes to the set of his shoulders right down to his posture, Ryan wasn't offering much of a confirmation as to whether this man was related him.

"Yes," the man answered. "George Ross, pleasure to meet you ...-?" he trailed off questioningly as he extended his hand.

"Lindsey Ballato."

"And James Euringer," Jimmy added.

Both Lindsey and Jimmy shook George's hand. The looks of skepticism and wariness in their gazed had gone, now replaced with observant curiosity.

"Well, Ryan, are you ready to go?" George turned to his son, who was looking at anywhere but him. There was a momentary flash of hurt on George's face before it was quickly concealed with his affable smile.

"Wait," Lindsey said before anyone could say anything. Her cheeks flushed red as she glanced at Ryan then at George. "Please - please take care of him, alright?  _Promise_ ," she prompted, regarding George with a serious expression that she usually reserved for sparring in duels.

"Don't worry. I will," George said but Ryan wasn't convinced. How could he when this was the same man who walked out of his life years ago? For all Ryan knew, George could only be putting on a facade to give false reassurance to Ryan's friends that he'd take care of his son.

"Good," Jimmy said before turning to Ryan. He placed both hands on Ryan's shoulders, looked at his friend in the eyes and said, "Remember what I said?"

Ryan nodded.

Lindsey patted Ryan's back. "Take care of yourself, alright? And write to us when you can. We love you." Then her and Jimmy sandwiched Ryan in a hug.


	7. she strikes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **trigger warning for chapter**
> 
> torture
> 
> _the beginning and end of the scene with the following triggers will be marked with triple-asterisks (***)_   
> 

Sure, Ryan had been acting as though he couldn't care less about anyone since his mother passed away but after that emotional goodbye from his best friends, he felt like he had lost the people he loved all over again. His heart hurt and his eyes stung but he refused to cry, especially not in front of George.

Instead of performing a Side-Along Apparition or use the Floo Powder Network, they traveled to the neighborhood where Ryan live by taking the train. It was rather uncomfortable, in Ryan's opinion, as there were many Muggles around him, staring at his large trunk with those blatant and judgmental stares. He couldn't think of any reason why his father would possibly want to use public Muggle transportation instead of travel by magical means. Not that he has anything against non-magic folk, it was just that he had had enough of people staring at him.

They reached the town nearby Ryan's neighborhood in Bristol about an hours after the sun had set. There was this small Indian restaurant George took Ryan to to have dinner but even if the place was Ryan's favorite place to dine at whenever he was home for the summer, he didn't find himself enjoying the food even if it tasted delicious. A part of him was both resentful and surprised that George even remembered this place - he just wanted proof that his father had forgotten everything about him so he had a reason to be mad at his father.

"How are you enjoying your chole masala?" George asked.

Ryan didn't answer, instead managed a fifth bite of jeera rice and masala and didn't eat after that. He was hungry but at the same time he felt like his mouth was filled with sawdust and his insides were churning from a mix of too many emotions.

They left for Ryan's house shortly after dinner, taking the Knight Bus to arrive at the neighborhood. The main reason why Ryan felt like throwing up the moment he stepped off the bus was not because the ride on the bus was very bumpy and haphazard but because he was standing in the driveway of the house where his mother's attack had happened. As it was dark and the only illumination provided by a nearby streetlamp was dim, the house itself looked forbidding and ominous.

"The lights are supposed to be switched on at this hour," George said with a hint of confusion as he checked his watch. "Never mind, the power must have tripped." Taking keys from his pocket, he went up to the front door and unlocked it. Ryan waited at the doorstep while George entered the house, regarding the darkness.

A sense of foreboding was lingering at the back of Ryan's head as he crossed the threshold before he dismissed it with the reason that it was probably the lack of light. George had disappeared somewhere into the house, the only giveaway to his presence was him saying, "I thought I handled the utility bills. I'll never understand how No-Majs operate their eckletricity," and the sound of his footsteps.

Ryan peered around the hallway, his hand slipping into his pocket to bring out his wand. Holding it out, he concentrated and said, " _Lumos_." The tip of his wand lit up, illuminating the dark corridor. Letting his eyes adjust to the light provided by his wand, Ryan walked towards the stairs and climbed it. The sounds of George tinkering with the circuit breaker downstairs grew fainter as Ryan reached the top of the stairs.  


For some unknown reason, Ryan's heart was slamming hard against his ribcage. He didn't know why he felt suffocated and was breathing faster than normal. Perhaps the fact that his mother was cursed somewhere in his house was getting into his head and filling with an unexplainable dread and fear. Frightening images and scenarios began to pop up behind his eyes and he tried to picture himself being able to fight whatever he could think of but this didn't help.  


"Don't be bloody ridiculous," he told himself sharply, fighting past the panic that was gradually forcing its way out of him. He strode towards his bedroom with a stubborn scowl on his face, concentrating harder so his wand gave off a stronger light. "There's nothing here to hurt you." His hand closed around the doorknob and gave it a twist before he pushed the door open.

His bedroom was just as he had left it. No signs of anything he had imagined like bloodstains on the wall or mangled bodies on the floor. None of his belongings were out of place. In fact, everything looked as normal as it could be.

He walked towards his desk by the window, which was bare and devoid of anything except for a lamp and a photo frame. Unlike Muggle pictures, Wizard photographs tended to move; Ryan's heart squeezed painfully in his chest as he looked at the laughing faces of his mother and him. He picked the frame up and felt his eyes begin to sting.

Putting it back down, Ryan went to check the wardrobe, under his bed, and even his desk again. Once again, he proved to himself that nothing had been moved and there was nothing hiding in the shadows of his room.

So why couldn't he feel relieved?

He forced himself to take deep breaths and tried to hold his shaky wand hand steady. There was another illumination spell, a variant of Lumos, that he learned from Defense Against The Dark Arts subject, which could be used to dispel certain malevolent spirits. "Lumos Maxima," he uttered and the room was washed with blinding white.

But even with sudden flare of light, Ryan still didn't feel relieved so he considered going downstairs to see how much progress George had made with fiddling with the circuit breaker. Lowering his wand, he glanced down and noticed right away that something was wrong.

The floor he stood on was pitch black; even with the Lumos charm providing light, he couldn't even see his shadow.

Unnerved, he swiveled on his heel and ran towards the door - only to find a woman standing there with her wand pointed at him. In a split second, he recognized the woman. Though it was years ago when he saw her at the Platform 9¾, he could never forget her face or the way she had regarded him with coldness and hostility in her gaze.

The moment Ryan's eyes flitted past hers at the corridor behind her, his bedroom door slammed shut.

Ryan stopped short, feeling his heart leap all the way to his throat. Panicked, he raised his mouth and attempted to cast the Disarming spell. "Expelliar--"

He never got to finish it.

With a neat flick of her wrist, the woman disarmed Ryan first, causing his wand to fly out of his hand and land somewhere in the room with a clatter. The light on the tip of Ryan's wand went out immediately.

Ryan had let out a cry he didn't realize he had made and whirled to look at the woman. She was advancing towards him at a leisurely pace now, her lips twisted into a cruel smile. His heart was beating like crazy and he was backing away from the woman. Unfortunately, his foot caught over the other, causing him to fall backwards on his bum.

Unable to help himself, his eyes began to water, misting his vision. He was shaking badly and letting out these frightened little whimpers as the woman drew closer to him. There was this aura that she sent off, cold, unforgiving and hostile, that made Ryan want to crawl into a hole and sob - he didn't know what sort of magic she was using.

Lowering her wand, the woman placed the tip of her wand at Ryan's chin - the heat radiating off it was burning into Ryan's skin - when she pushed upwards so he was facing her.

"So this is the whelp George and that bitch had together," the woman said, staring down at Ryan. Every syllable uttered by her was laced with loathing and contempt. "What a pitiful thing you are."

Ryan said nothing. Though she hadn't cast any spell to hinder his speech, he felt robbed of his ability to speak. His mouth was open yet no words could leave his throat.

"What is your name?" she demanded. When Ryan didn't reply, she chuckled and drew back, taking the tip of her wand away from his chin. The woman regarded the boy before her with that thin cruel smile of hers before she waved her wand.

A sudden invisible force gripped Ryan by the neck and pulled him up to the point his feet were inches off the floor. He choked, hands flying to his throat as though he could somehow break whatever was holding him. He struggled helplessly, clawing at his skin and trying to suck in breaths yet --

The woman let out a soft cackle, lips pulling into a rictus grin as she watched Ryan slowly suffocate from the lack of air with relish. The light from her wand reflected off her gaze. " _Crucio_ ," she uttered and the light turned red.

***

Suddenly, white-hot pain attacked Ryan's nerves, causing him to feel as though thousands of knives were stabbing into his skin and rending every fibre of his being over and over again. He was screaming, a terrible sound that he had never made before. His body was contorting and shaking uncontrollably as if it was desperately to struggle away from whatever it was that the woman was attacking him with.

The edges of Ryan's vision began to blur and fade as his consciousness slipped. The agony was so intense and consuming there was nothing more than Ryan wanted in that moment to be relieved of it.

And it did, but not the way he wanted. He was dropped on the floor, whatever stranglehold he was caught in was released. But he didn't get a chance to breathe - it was more like his body was seized by a violent paroxysm of coughs and sobs, causing him to fetch up on all fours. He threw up what little of his dinner, feeling stomach acid burn into his throat which brought about more coughing and sobbing.

The woman chuckled. "Are you crying, darling?" she sneered derisively although the grin on her face suggested she took delight in the pitiful sight before her. "You sound like a pig waiting to be slaughtered."

If Ryan could've begged her to stop, he couldn't. Whimpering, he collapsed backwards in a huddled position. The sobs he was releasing wracked his body, shaking him all over. His eyes flitted to hers, then away. He couldn't breathe, even if he needed to, not with her in his presence.

She prodded him with her foot, tutting in disapproval. "Now now, I don't believe George's blood would've made a sorry excuse of a product of procreation this weak. It must be your mother's blood that's tainted you."

Ryan whimpered when she prodded him harder.

"Get up."

Ryan didn't move.

"I said get up."

A tiny whimper escaped from Ryan as he squeezed his eyes shut, body braced.

" _Crucio_."

Ryan was seized again by the intense pain. This time, he was curled into a ball on the floor, screaming to the point his voice sounded less like a child's and more like a guttural cry of agony from a tortured soul. His throat burned from the acid that rose once more from his stomach and the noises he was making.

***

As if from a distance, he could hear the woman cackling with glee as she assaulted him again and again. Flashes of red light filled the room as she casted the spell over and over --

" _Ryan? Ryan!_ " The sounds of fists banging on the door caused the woman stop.

"Ah, that must be George. My spell must've worn off sooner than I thought it would. It doesn't matter - I've had my fun, anyway."

Ryan crumpled on the floor in a heap, struggling to breathe. He was on the verge of fainting from the torture he was subjected to. " _Help_ ," Ryan whimpered, barely able to call his father out aloud from his swollen throat. He was lying in a puddle of his own vomit and tears, looking at the door behind the woman. "P-please ..."

The woman tsked in annoyance, looking at the door, before she turned to Ryan. She smiled malevolently at the boy on the floor and said, "We'll meet again; mark my words, boy." And then she Disapparated the moment the door flew open.

George entered the room, looking around wildly when he saw his son in a heap on the floor. The flashlight in his hand clattered onto the floor and he was rushing forward to his son. "No no no no." His voice was shaking as he held Ryan's limp body. " _Ryan, wake up_." He shook his son desperately.

Ryan's head lolled back as he let out a tiny whimpering noise. " _Daddy?_ " His voice was hoarse and broken.

"Daddy's here. Daddy's got you," George sobbed, cradling his son to him.

Ryan felt the world slip away once more.

▬▬▬

"There's no signs of permanent damage on your son, although I would suggest he takes the time to rest for the next few days --"

Across the Healer's office, George glanced at his son, who was perched on the bed and was watching them vacantly. The pinched expression of worry on George's features was had not gone since Ryan regained consciousness.

When Ryan came to, George had immediately helped him get cleaned up and changed out of his vomit and sweat-stained clothes, which his father disposed of promptly. George had fussed over Ryan, asked him whether there was anything he needed but Ryan was too shaken to even show his father annoyance.

Together, Ryan packed up whatever he thought he needed into his school trunk while George cleaned up the mess before they left the house right away. Never did Ryan look back as they boarded the Knight Bus once more.

But they didn't leave for America after that. A worried George had insisted on bringing Ryan to St Mungo's for a checkup, in case there was anything that required immediate attention. Surprisingly, Ryan didn't protest although he would have had he not lost his voice.

The Healer had examined Ryan for any sort of physical injury left from the attack but other than that, she had done next to nothing to help Ryan. After examination, she proceeded to give instructions to a worried and pale-looking George before sending them with false words of reassurance. Once they were out of his office, George didn't look convinced nor was he satisfied with the Healer's conclusion.

They had no choice but to depart for America shortly afterwards as they were traveling by Portkey, which could only remained enchanted to transport them to where George lived for a short period of time.

Traveling by Portkey, in Ryan's opinion, was probably just as uncomfortable as traveling by Side-Along Apparition. The moment he was transported, he felt like every fiber of his body had been compressed forcibly into a single, small cylinder and thrown around everywhere in a hurricane. The world around him became a messy of swirl of colors, the noise of wind rushing past his ears grew louder and louder till Ryan wanted to scream when he was suddenly jerked out of the strange method of transportation.

He landed hard-packed earth on his back, the impact of it knocking the wind out of him. A manky old boot, the Portkey, landed near his face - Ryan didn't even register it until seconds later. He groaned when hands helped him to a sitting position. Disoriented, his eyes fluttered shut for a moment before he opened them slowly. George was squatted before him, patting his hand to Ryan's cheek in efforts to keep him conscious.

"You okay there?" George asked.

A tired scowl formed on Ryan's features when he pushed his father's hand away weakly. "I'm fine," he said, tone tinged with annoyance. George pressed his lips together and moved aside for Ryan to get up.

The Portkey had transported them to someone's yard, which had an unremarkable vegetable patch in the corner, a tiny plot where a bed of flowers were grown and neatly trimmed grass. The sky overhead was approaching twilight, colored with the kind of saturated shade of blue that Ryan used to admire. Somehow, the tranquility of this place, how nromal everything was, suddenly appeared jarring when placed in contrast with what had happened to Ryan previously today.

Pulling himself together, he got to his feet, wincing slightly as the impact of his landing hadn't been kind to his body. Doing his best to ignore the sting and aches, he looked at the house with a mild frown on his features then to George, who was casting an Engorgio charm to enlarge Ryan's trunk that had been shrunken to fit in his pocket for ease of transport.

There was a house before Ryan, two-stories high, built in the style of a typical American suburban home he sometimes saw on the telly. The sight of a perfect-looking building irked Ryan; a scowl had formed on his features. He had a sneaking suspicion yet he didn't want to jump to conclusions so soon.

"Where are we?" Ryan demanded in an apprehensive tone when he turned to George.

"This is my house." The way George had answered, as if it was something obvious that couldn't possibly be missed out, pissed Ryan off. "And it'll be your home too," George added.

The crease on Ryan's brow deepened further but he said nothing to express his disgust at how  _hopeful_  his father sounded. Instead, he glared at the house. So this was where George lived after he ditched Ryan and Danielle. The house looked every bit like a perfect home Ryan had been robbed of the opportunity to grow up in, a sight that caused Ryan's heart constrict with resentment. He had, without a shadow of doubt, that there was probably be some family George had that Ryan knew nothing of waiting inside.

"Do you want me to help you with your trunk?" George offered, his voice breaking into Ryan's thoughts.

Ryan barely hid his look of annoyance. "I can do it myself, thank you," he said stiffly before taking his trunk.

George's lips folded into a thin line but he said nothing. Producing a set of keys from his pocket, he walked up to the back door and unlocked it. The moment he had pushed the door open, there was a pitter-pattering sound and a jingling noise that came forth to greet them. Behind George, Ryan stiffened involuntarily, his hand moving to his pocket where his wand was.

"Hey, Peanut. How're you, girl?" George's tone suddenly sounded lighter; he bent down and there was a delighted bark. Ryan craned his head to see what was going on when he saw a dog being scratched behind the ear by George. "Ryan, this is Peanut. Peanut, this is Ryan."

Ryan stared at the dog, taking note of the fawn color of its coat, its short and sturdy-looking build, large pointed ears and curious brown eyes. The dog was barking at him but when he showed no response, Peanut stopped barking and approached him warily, sniffing his foot. Once Peanut decided Ryan wasn't a threat, she turned away and went back inside; detachedly, Ryan was astonished to see Peanut had no tail.

George led Ryan inside through the kitchen, before giving a brief directions on which rooms were which downstairs. Though Ryan was disappointed and annoyed to see he had been wrong about George having a family he had no knowledge of, a part of him was the tiniest bit relieved. As they went up the stairs, George has tried to offer to help Ryan with his trunk once more but Ryan had spurned it again without a thought.

They reached the room at the end of the short corridor to the left of the stairs. "This is your room," George said, opening the door for Ryan. "I decorated a little bit with some stuff I thought you'd like - to make it feel a little more like home," he added awkwardly.

"Thanks," Ryan said flatly. Without another word, he pulled his trunk inside and closed the door, not caring that George had opened his mouth as though he wanted to say some more. Turning the lock, Ryan exhaled and rested his back against the door. For a moment, he strained his ears to listen and heard the sound of footsteps drawing away from his new room. He waited until he could hear nothing before he slid to the floor, huddled.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

He wasn't sure how long he had sat there but when his stomach rumbled, he decided it was probably time to get up. His legs had gone numb; he stumbled a few times trying to get blood circulating. It didn't bother him, though. He glanced at the shiny new alarm clock at the nightstand, realizing he'd been sitting for at least an hour without moving. Then he peered around his new room.

The walls of the room had been painted in beige with white trims, devoid of any decorations except for a poster of England's national Quidditch team. To his right was a closet, not a wardrobe like the one in his old room. To his left by the window, sat a desk and shelf that was built in to the adjacent wall. There was a photo frame on the desk beside the lamp that had a photograph of Ryan and his parents, which was taken when he was little. He held it up to have a better look but the numbness in his feet were crying for his attention so he set it back down and went back to pace about the room.

▬▬▬

The rest of the night was spent unpacking everything Ryan brought with him from home. The task he had set upon himself, right from taking his clothes out of the trunk and folding them to putting his belongings on the shelf, was enough to distract him from today's ordeal. His mind had gone on autopilot so he was arranging everything in a rather robotic manner.

However, no matter he tried to make everything feel more familiar to him, the fact that he was in a different house, on a different land in a different country altogether nagged at the back of his head.

Finally giving in to exhaustion, Ryan fell asleep, curled in a fetal position in bed and didn't wake until late next morning. He had forgotten to draw the curtains so when he stirred in his sleep and rolled over facing the window, it didn't take long for the bright and warm sunlight spilling through the window to rouse him from sleep. He awoke, feeling groggy and sluggish, and scowled at window.

It took him longer than usual to get out of bed and freshen up this morning. When he went downstairs, he heard voices coming from the kitchen - George's and a woman's. Ryan's stomach tightened involuntarily and he found himself hurrying to the kitchen.

As Ryan suspected, George was in there with a woman he didn't recognize. She had dark curly hair that was tied in a frizzy ponytail and was, perhaps, five feet five in height. Both her and George had their backs facing Ryan so they didn't notice when he slipped into the kitchen and stood by the door.

"I don't know what to do, Lucy," George was saying as he fried hashbrowns at the stove. "I really want to make it up to Ryan for all those years but he's ... he's like a door. Closed off. And he's pissed with me. Maybe I should've tried harder to convince Danielle's siblings to take him in or ... or something. He might've been happier around them than me."

The woman, Lucy, placed her hand on George's shoulder. "No, don't put yourself down like that," she said in a gentle tone that brought up a vague memory of Danielle speaking the same way to George in Ryan's mind. "It'll take time before he learns to trust you again. I mean, it has been years since you last saw him, right?"

George sighed, nodding. "He was six at that time. I don't think he really understood why I had to leave."

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Ryan spoke up, notifying the two of them of his presence. There was a scowl on his face as he rested his bitter gaze on his father's. "You just wanted 'time for yourself', that's what."

"Ryan --" George began.

"I really thought you'd  _come back_." Ryan's voice was hoarse. His eyes were burning with hot tears. "I thought you'd come back and apologize to me and Mum. For being a selfish arse and for leaving us like that without any valid reason --"

"I  _had_  a reason, Ryan," George said, cutting his son off. His posture was tense and his features bore an earnest expression. "A perfectly good reason to leave but I don't expect you to understand --"

"What reason?" Ryan demanded savagely before turning his gaze to a startled-looking Lucy. His blood was boiling in his veins. He pointed at the woman angrily. "Her? Is  _she_  the reason you left us?"

Poor Lucy, who wasn't prepared to be caught in between an argument between an estranged father and his son, placed her hands up in a placating manner. Her face had gone pale in a matter of seconds. "For the record, I did not play a part in your parents' divorce," she said.

"I don't believe you," Ryan snapped. "And you can forget about trying to gain my trust or my respect or whatever. I'm going upstairs," he declared and swiveled on his heel before storming down the hallway and up the stairs.

Kicking the door shut, Ryan turned the lock so hard it nearly came clean off. His head was pounding with anger, filling him with the urge to kick something or scream. The latter was out of the question as he had screamed enough the night before and his throat felt like it was on fire; he settled with the former.

Stalking towards the desk, Ryan drew his foot back and kicked it as hard as he could. It felt good releasing all that pent up anger that was threatening to burst out of him; he was barely aware of the throbbing pain in his toes. So he kicked again and again until his foot was smarting. His breaths were coming out with a ragged sort of sound. His cheeks were warm and wet with tears.

In the process, his actions had caused the photo frame on the desk to topple and land face-first. Now that he was slowly coming back to his senses, he picked the frame up and was about to set it back in its original position when he stopped. His eyes had caught on the photograph and all traces of his earlier anger vanished.

In the picture, Ryan was laughing as Dottie nestled on his hair while his parents looked on lovingly at their son. It must've been taken when he was around five, before his parents got divorced, because he could recall that there had been no family pictures taken when he was six.

He looked at his father then at his mother then at him when his chest squeezed painfully in his chest. He was seized by an admixture of emotions - bitterness, longing and sadness - causing his throat to close up and the backs of his eyes to sting. Hastily, he set the photo frame back on the desk, face down, with a clatter. As his hands were shaking at his side, he balled them into a fist and tried to calm himself down.

But he could feel it. The resentment he'd been harboring for his father, buried deep down in within him with the hope that he'd one day forget, came rising back again like the waves of a violent sea crashing to shore. He was fighting against the urge to cry there but with everything that's happened, he lost his composure.

Tears began to flow down his cheeks as badly suppressed sobs escaped from his lips. He had jammed a fist in his mouth to stifle the noise he was making yet his attempt was unsuccessful because he could hear his own ugly sobs. Holding the frame tightly to his chest, he crumpled to the floor on his behind and cried for the family he used to have and wished he still had.

It was around early afternoon when Ryan a knock on the door, indicating someone wished to enter or speak to him. He had no doubt it would be his father.

Ryan had been lying on the floor, staring at the photograph of his family for a long time. He had cried, a lot, but once he couldn't shed more tears and was exhausted from crying, he resolved to lie on the floor instead.

Frowning, he looked at the door. Whoever it was who was knocking had stopped however this time there was the faint noise of scratching on his door. As he wondered detachedly what that was, he got up from the fetal position he'd been lying in and made his way to the door. Slowly turning the lock, Ryan drew a deep breath, wiped his face to clear up any traces of tears on his face and opened the door.

He had his eyes on the floor when he did so the first thing he saw was Peanut, staring up at him with those wide curious eyes. Then he looked up and saw Lucy.

"Smart move bringing a dog with you," Ryan said with grudging admiration. He looked at the tray in her hand. "And food," he added when his stomach growled.

"George told me you liked dogs." Lucy shrugged. "And I thought you might be hungry. George said you threw up last night and haven't gotten a bite of food in hours."

"Proper of him to care," Ryan muttered under his breath. He glanced at Peanut, who was poking her nose into the room and sniffing curiously. He opened the door wider for her to enter and heard the dog's paws scrabble on the hardwood floor as he took the tray from Lucy. He placed the tray on his desk before returned to the door where Lucy stood. "Why are you  _really_  here?" Ryan asked warily.

"We got off on the wrong foot so I thought - well, we should probably start over?" Lucy regarded him hopefully. She extended her hand with an amiable smile. "I'm Lucy. Lucy Caldéron."

Ryan reached to shake her hand but briefly. "Ryan."

Lucy gave a nod, smiling but it was starting to look strained. "Just so you know, I met George two years after his divorce. I didn't know he had a son until we dated for a year or so."

"I bet he didn't tell you about how he suddenly wanted to leave me and Mum before you and him got hitched, didn't he?"

"Oh no, George and I aren't married. We're partners."

Ryan stared at her, not sure what to make of the label. Truthfully, the word 'partner' to him sounded like a foreign concept. Didn't people get married after a certain period of dating? Perhaps that was a thing in America, he thought. Americans were weird, he decided. "Well, it was nice knowing you," Ryan said after an awkward pause, "but if you'll excuse me, I'd like some alone time."

He was about to shut the door when Lucy said, "If you need someone to talk to, I'm here. You don't have to deal with ... with whatever you're dealing with alone. Sometimes, it helps to talk."

Ryan's hand on the doorknob tightened slightly. What did Lucy know about dealing with anything, anyway? "Thanks," he said curtly before shutting the door. "But no thanks," he whispered as he turned the lock. The sound of scrabbling paws reminded him that he wasn't completely alone in his room; he turned to find Peanut sniffing at his trunk.

"Don't pee on my stuff," Ryan told the corgi before sitting at his desk. The tray Lucy had brought him contained a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon with a side of hash browns and a glass of water. The moment he removed the cling wrap from the plate, he heard Peanut scuttling over to him and then the dog whining for food.

Ryan gave her a pointed look. "Okay, fine. You can have some of my breakfast." After feeding Peanut a piece of bacon, he sat down and had his meal, not realizing how hungry he was until he had finished his breakfast. Then, he turned to find Peanut resting on the floor in a strange position - it was like she was spread-eagled on the floor.

"Hey Peanut?" Ryan said.

Peanut's ears perked up as she looked up at him.

Ryan got out of his seat and laid down beside her. Out of everything in this house, so far Peanut hasn't done anything to earn his dislike; in fact, the dog was the only sight that didn't get him all riled up or annoyed.

Peanut poked her nose on Ryan's cheek and began to lick him, causing giggles to be emitted from Ryan. It was a strange sound - he hadn't laughed in months since his mother's death much less smile. "Get off, you bugger," Ryan said, pushing her snout away from his face playfully when she nosed into him again. "You must be chuffed that I don't hate you." He continued to stroke her fur before he shut his eyes and drifted off.


	8. unfamiliarity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **trigger warning**  
> 
> 
> trauma flashback, including dissociation, and description of panic attack
> 
>  
> 
> _the beginning and end of the scene with the following trigger will be marked with triple-asterisks (***)_  
> 

It took Ryan a full day of staying in his room before he finally cracked and accepted the fact that he couldn't stay locked up inside his new room forever, even with Peanut to keep him company. He couldn't avoid Lucy or George nor prevent them from coming up to his room to check on him every once in awhile. Not only that, he needed to send letters to Lindsey and Jimmy. They had made him promise to write to them when he arrived in America but he hadn't so much as touched a quill and a piece of paper to write. They must've been worried sick for him, no doubt, and would probably think he might've fallen off the map.

It was a lovely Sunday midmorning when Ryan decided to emerge from his room, out of necessity and not because he wanted to see George nor Lucy's faces. With Peanut by his side, he went downstairs to look for then and found them in the garage where they were both tinkering with the car - he wasn't sure who owned it, but he suspected it was Lucy's.

"No, I think this part should go here," Lucy was telling George.

George sighed, rubbing the back of his hand across his face which was already covered with a few smudges of black on his skin. "Yeah, you're probably right." They didn't notice Ryan standing by the door of the garage until he cleared his throat. "Oh, Ryan."

Ryan did his best not to scowl. It was starting to become a habit of his to form one whenever George was around or when his presence would acknowledged by his father. He stared at Lucy and George and the car, detachedly wondering why on earth they would want to tinker with engine parts when it looked perfectly fine. "Do you have an owl I could use?"

"An owl?" Lucy echoed before looking to George.

"Yes, an owl," Ryan said before Lucy could continue talking. He couldn't resist having scorn color his tone when he added, "It's the bird that hoots at night."

Lucy's face reddened but she said nothing instead arched her eyebrows and went back to repair the engine. George simply gave Ryan a weary but warning look, which was lost on Ryan, and said, "She knows what it is, Ryan. And no, we don't keep owls."

"Well, that's  _convenient_ ," Ryan muttered in annoyance under his breath. He was hoping he could borrow an owl so he could send letters to Lindsey and Jimmy - he hadn't written them any letters yet but he needed to make sure an owl was available so he didn't have to pay for a post owl. Moreover, he hadn't went to Gringotts bank to withdraw any money before arriving here and the only spare change he had with him amounted to just five Knuts, not enough to pay for a post owl to make a trip to where his friends lived. He couldn't imagine why George wouldn't want to keep an owl - how else could he send letters? Surely, he wouldn't be using the Muggle snail-mail service, would he?

"Then, is there a bank and a post office nearby in - what's the name of this area?"

"Lexington, Massachusetts," George answered. "And why do you need to --"

"I need to withdraw some money and send letters to my friends," Ryan replied curtly.

George straightened up from being bent over the engine to look at him then glanced at Lucy, who was now busying herself with the engine. George's brows were furrowed together slightly and his lips were pressed together. Despite years of being estranged from him, Ryan knew he was hesitating. After a few seconds of deliberating, George finally relented. "Okay," he said with a weary sigh. "I'll take you to the city later."

Ryan went back inside and returned to his room. Peanut wasn't present in there as she had disappeared somewhere in the house. There was a stack of blank papers sitting in one of the drawers of the desk so Ryan took a sheet from it. A cup full of pens and pencils sat beside the lamp but he ignored it and reached for the bottle of ink and his quill. After dipping the tip of his quill in the ink bottle, Ryan paused to think about what he wanted to write.

There wasn't much he could tell his friends, unless he wanted to write his account of what had happened in his house at Bristol the night before he left for America which he didn't. He didn't want them to worry too much - he had put them through enough. Plus, he didn't want to think about that horrid incident. He could imagine what Lindsey and Jimmy would say if they were present here and now and he had gained the courage to talk to them about it.

"That's despicable of that -  _that bloody hag_!" Lindsey would say and she'd proceed to wear that stormy expression of hers that indicated she was ready to snap anyone's neck with a glare. "Oh god, if there's anything I could do to --"

Jimmy would've interjected at that moment by saying, "If she dares to show her ugly face and attack you, I'd Apparate myself to wherever you are and fight her. Bloody hell, I'd even go as low as fighting with my bare fists, like all those Muggle sorts do, and make sure she  _stays down_."

In the end, Ryan decided it was best if he kept the letters short but detailed enough that it would make them appear as though he couldn't be arsed about writing to them in the first place. He placed them in envelopes he found in the bottom of his trunk - he made a mental note to buy stationery when he could - before placing the letters on his desk. All he had to do was wait until George and Lucy were done tinkering with the car downstairs.

▬▬▬

As promised, George took Ryan to town later that day in the afternoon. Ryan was relieved Lucy didn't join them on their trip to Boston as she had to bring Peanut to the groomer's, but at the same time he was rather reluctant to spend time with his father. He didn't want to depend on the very same man who had walked out of his life when he was only a child - George had done it once and he could certainly do it again.

The ride to the city roughly half an hour, which would've left ample room for conversation had it not been for Ryan alternating between single-word answers and silence at every effort George was making to start a conversation. The topic had ranged from Hogwarts, to his friends then how he liked Massachusetts so far before George realized Ryan was still pissed at him, and abandoned all efforts. The silence was filled with Muggle pop music, which Ryan instantly grew annoyed with and had to tune to another Muggle radio station.

"Why isn't there a decent Muggle radio station that doesn't play music that's rubbish?" he grumbled, jabbing with the numbered buttons on the stereo. "Is this the kind of thing Americans have to listen to?"

"Here, let me do it." Reluctantly, Ryan's hand drew away to allow George to find a radio station that didn't irk his son. "And no, not  _all_  Americans listen to this kind of music," George added when he settled on an alternative music station. "I'm sure back in England, No-Majs play nearly the same thing."

Ryan was about to retort but he couldn't think of anything witty to say because he didn't listen much to Muggle radio, only the Wireless Wizarding Network. Rolling his eyes, he folded his arms against his chest and stared out the window. Minutes later as they were nearing the city George began to talk about Boston and its charms. Initially, Ryan tuned him out but his curiosity gradually awakened as George carried on talking so in the end Ryan listened to him.

After managing to find a parking spot, George took Ryan to a coffee shop called The Daily Grind Cafe round the of the block. The place was really quiet and a few customers sat here and there amongst the tables and booths. George led him to the back where there was a door with a sign stuck on it that read, 'Staff Only. Do Not Enter.' Ignoring it, George opened the door when sunlight poured in.

Ryan squinted against the sudden harsh light when George prompted him to move. He obliged, walking through the door when he found himself in a busy street full of people. At first, he thought they were all Muggles but upon closer inspection of what they wore and the words he heard all around him, he realized they were wizards after all.

"Hey, have you heard about what's gotten No-Majs worked up about?" An elderly wizard who was passing by Ryan asked his companion, who was wearing a ridiculous pinstriped robe and clashing pants.

"What? The Flat Earth theory?" Pinstripe scoffed. "Please, Eddie, we all know it's a bunch of hogwash those young whippersnappers came up with to entertain themselves."

"Where are we?" Ryan asked, turning to George who was shutting the door behind him.

"Nightingale's Lane." George reached into his pocket. "Gringotts should be past Quincy's Sports Supplies," he said, naming a shop to Ryan's left. They went off in that direction, shouldering past wizards and witches alike in the streets. The place reminded him of Diagon Alley back in London where he usually went to buy school supplies. Some shops had their wares displayed along the street in hopes of attracting customers; once or twice, Ryan was tempted to stop George so he could have a look.

Apparently, the Gringotts here in Boston didn't differ much from Gringotts in London in terms of appearance. It was a large, marble-white edifice that towered over neighboring shops. They had to climb a set of steps that led to set of bronze double doors flanked by two security guards. The vestibule led to another set of doors which opened to a large hall with long counters spanning the room with a hundred goblins sitting at them.

After approaching one of the counters and handing over the key to Ryan's new vault, the goblin worker led them underground where the vaults were located. To get to Ryan's vault, they had to be transported by a mine-cart that traveled over twisting and turning railway tracks. Ryan was highly relieved when they reached his vault and he quickly climbed out of the cart and sat on the cold ground, trying to stop his head from spinning. Once he had recovered, the goblin opened his vault for him using Ryan's key.

Ryan was surprised to see the vault was as large as the one back in London, and it wasn't filled with Galleons, Sickles or Knuts inside. In fact, there were strange coins and bank notes. "What are these?" he asked in confusion, blinking a few times to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.

"Dragots," George responded. "I had to transfer your money to the American Gringotts vaults so they converted the amount you had into, well, Dragots."

"You British types can't be bothered to issue paper notes instead of using so many coins," the goblin commented behind them. "'Isn't it heavy and dangerous to lug a sack of money around?' That's what I say to your English tourists. Bit backwards, your kind, if you ask me."

Ryan was tempted to shoot a withering glare at the goblin when George said, "I'll pay for your school supplies. You can just withdraw the money you need when you're at school. Fifty Dragots should be enough --"

"I don't need your help," Ryan said sharply. "I can buy the things I need myself." Without sparing a look at George's hurt expression, Ryan entered the vault and took some money. As he didn't know what supplies he needed for school, he simply withdrew enough money to last him for sending letters during summer. He could always come back here once he received his list from Ilvermorny.

They left the bank afterwards and headed to the post office. Inside, there were many color coded shelves that housed many of different kinds of birds, all making a range of noises while they peered down. The sight was both familiar and jarring as back at home, Ryan was used to having letters or parcels delivered by owls whereas in America, one could use doves or other types of birds of prey. He inspected a large eagle standing by the counter next to a tiny wizard who reminded him of Professor Flitwick.

"International delivery, eh?" the tiny wizard said after Ryan asked him for the prices. "I would suggest you to hire one of those birds from the red or orange shelf if you want a speedy delivery but the birds from the yellow and green shelves are affordable and should get your mail to your destination safely."

In the end, Ryan paid for a midnight-black raven from the red shelf to send his letters to Lindsey and Jimmy, and was told his delivery should take a few days to deliver. Fighting back the urge to complain it was too long a time to wait, he told himself it wasn't too long to wait compared to the other color shelves and to hope instead that his letters will reach Lindsey and Jimmy on time.

▬▬▬

The following week of waiting proved to be challenging for Ryan.

The first thing Ryan did every morning after waking up would be to check whether any birds had came to the house bearing letters from Lindsey and Jimmy. Anticipation to receive their replies grew into impatience then disappointment as each day progressed from dawn to dusk. He caught himself looking out the window every so often from the book he was reading currently - Tales of Beedle the Bard - to keep him company. But there was something else too that made him want their replies to reach him sooner.

When he wrote to his best friends, he wanted  so badly to talk about the night he was attacked by The Woman. Yet when he tried to put it down to pen and paper, his mind would go funny, making him relive the night, and he'd have to put his quill down to catch his breath. He'd be sweating, his heart would be palpitating and he'd be shakily trying to wipe his tears away. So he didn't write it at all, which made him feel worse. He would've asked George who that woman was but he was always either with Lucy or off to work at his department in MACUSA. He had no one to talk to, except for Peanut, but dogs didn't understand a word humans said.

What's worse, every time he calmed himself down he felt guilt, shame and self-loathing. Why couldn't he have casted that Expelliarmus spell quick enough? Why didn't he fight back? Why did he let The Woman overpower him like that? Why was he so weak? If he hadn't been complacent, he would've escaped without all these horrible memories that made his body react as if he was back in that room all over again. If only he had reacted fast enough, he could've fought her. He also started blaming himself for choosing to walk upstairs instead of staying with George that night.

And the nightmares - they were the worst. A recurring one he'd have that would make him wake up nauseous and drenched in sweat would be that particular dream where he was walking down a dark corridor. A door to one of the rooms  would be left ajar and Ryan would enter it - no matter how many times he tried to stop that, his limbs would move on their own volition - and he'd see both his mother and The Woman. And The Woman did terrible things to Danielle, making Ryan watch before she attacked him herself. Other nightmares were subtle and didn't include The Woman - he'd dream of being trapped in a dark room without his wand.

It could be said that Lucy's intentions were well-placed but Ryan found her intrusive. She had noticed he'd been waking up exhausted with dark shadows beneath his eyes and his lack of appetite at dinner - he wished she didn't. "Ryan, is there something you wanna get out of your chest?" she asked one night whilst marinating chicken in a bowl when he walked into the kitchen in search of Peanut.

"No." His answer was abrupt and carried an undertone that suggested he wished not to speak of his troubles before he fled the room. Obviously Lucy recognized something was wrong. But whatever efforts she attempted to show she'd be there to listen to him, he shut her out. It wasn't that he was ungrateful or that he harbored a dislike for her, it was because he didn't trust her fully.

At the end of the week-long wait, Ryan woke to the sound of Peanut's barks. Apparently she had managed to find her way onto his desk and was barking at a large eagle owl standing by the window outside. He recognized it as Lindsey's owl, Peony, and kicked off his sheets right away  
"Peanut, get off," he told the dog, picking her up from the desk and placing her on the floor. His heart was racing as he opened the window to let Peony. There were two letters tied to its left leg. Giving an impatient hoot, the owl ruffled its feathers as Ryan carefully removed the letter.

"Thanks, Peony," he said. "I'm sorry I don't have food for you but I can get you some water." Peony simply gave him what looked like an owl version of the side-eye and flew off without so much of a hoot. Well, it was never nice to boys anyway but the fact that it didn't nip his fingers clean off was something Ryan should be grateful for - other boys at Hogwarts didn't stand a chance of going near Peony.

Placing the letters on his desk, Ryan shut the windows and took a seat. He opened the letters eagerly and began to read.

     

     

Though Ryan was grateful he could hear from his best friends, he couldn't help but feel bothered by the bit where they both said they were relieved he was still alive - it only reminded of how he had barely managed to stay conscious when The Woman attacked. Peanut let out a soft whine and butted her head on Ryan's leg, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Ryan took one glance at her, set his letters down, and bent to pick her up. She made no complaint, instead seemed happy to be in his arms. Nuzzling into his face, she gave him a few affectionate licks. "Ugh, Peanut," Ryan protested but didn't move his face away. Instead, he held her tighter and stroked her fur absentmindedly; doing just that had effectively calmed him down a little and drew his mind away from his troubles.

▬▬▬

Later that afternoon when George returned home after work, he announced to Ryan that he had gotten in touch with a representative from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. "I'm really sorry about the short notice but he said he'd be happy to come over for dinner," he was saying, regarding Ryan who was too busy to look at him because Peanut was playing tug-of-war with Ryan. "I thought it was time for you to enrol with the school."

"What?" Ryan frowned when his fingers slipped and Peanut gave a rough yank and tumbled onto her back. "Didn't you handle this before you dragged me here?" He regarded George doubtfully, recalling that his father had claimed in a letter that he had gotten all the paperwork done - and this was before Ryan had to move to America.

"Well, old Aggie is a busy man and the school wasn't open to transfers until the summer," George explained. "But he said he'd be happy to help along with registration without you having to go to the administration office directly. Good thing I have the relevant documents you need for registration from Hogwarts --"

"What if I don't want to go to school?" It was a knee-jerk response, carrying an undertone of annoyance; Ryan didn't like how George was talking as though he knew what was best for his son.

George stared at him with faint astonishment. "Why," he began as a frown formed on his brow, "would you not want to go to school?" He sounded confused.

Ryan didn't have anything to say; after all, his question had been asked on impulse and he didn't intend for George to respond directly to it. He shrugged and looked away from his father's stunned expression.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Oh, yes," Ryan answered. "I don't recall you asking me whether I want to go to school or not."

"Don't be silly. You  _have_  to go to school," he reasoned, emphasizing the fact. "It's not something I have to ask you."

"Yeah, well, you really  _should have_ ," Ryan snapped. "You can't just  _swoop_  in to my life after Mum" -- his voice wobbled --"after Mum died and expect me to want you to be the father you weren't when you left us. You can't just pretend you actually feel responsible to look after me."

"Yes but you're not seeing the point here," George said. "You're a minor, which means I, as a parent, have to be responsible for your welfare and education because I've signed the papers for your custody, which was supposed to be going to your Aunt Matilda who thinks you're cursed. If I don't look after you properly, I'd be in trouble."

"Nobody asked you to play the hero. Especially not me."

"I signed those papers because I  _care_  about you, okay?"

Ryan couldn't help but feel repulsed by George's contradictory statement. "If you cared for me," Ryan said in a scathing tone, "why did you bother to arrange to visit me after you left Mum? Why didn't you write letters to me instead of waiting till Mum died and then tell me about how much you 'care' for me?" It was satisfying to watch hurt etch itself all over George's features. "But I have to admit this: you're right," he added savagely, enjoying how George blanched at his words, "I'm not seeing the point here."

Though Ryan would've heard George's pleas just fine even with the roar of blood in his ears, he ignored his father and stormed out of the room. His mind was blocked from anger that he didn't pay attention to where he was going until he found himself at the swing set in the neighborhood park, sobbing. It was not a pretty sight, him hiccoughing and furiously wiping away hot tears that splashed onto his ruddy cheeks. The local Muggle kids playing nearby gave him a wide berth, watching him with a mix of worry and confusion. One of them picked up the courage to ask him what was wrong but Ryan ended up snapping at him to mind his own business, even going as far to threatening to throw a hex - of course, the Muggle kid didn't know what a hex was but they got the message he wanted to be left alone.

A few of those kids' parents gave him looks as well, ranging from the disaparaging sort to concern. But they left him alone. Nobody wanted to go near a person who had shown signs that he wished to be left alone. Yet after awhile, a man approached Ryan.

"You look like you could use a Cheering Charm."

Ryan looked up at the man through his tear-misted eyes. At first, Ryan was about to yell at him to leave him alone but he realized belatedly that the man had mentioned a charm he had learned from school. Shutting his mouth, Ryan narrowed his eyes at the man. "No thank you," he responded curtly.

Apart from the fact that he was clearly not a Muggle, Ryan wouldn't have been able to recognize whether this man was a wizard or not from his appearance. The man was dark-skinned and old, judging from the lines on his face and the steel-gray hair, although his posture was as straight as a rod. He did not dress in a wacky assortment of clothes like some of the elderly wizard folk Ryan had seen back home, instead wore a simple red polo shirt and slacks with loafers.

In that moment, Ryan forgotten to cry and was overcome with curiosity. "Who are you?" he asked.

"Agilbert. Agilbert Fontaine."

▬▬▬

Ryan couldn't help but stare at Agilbert the whole time while they ate dinner. He didn't mean to be rude but he was still surprised that he hadn't guessed this man to be "Old Aggie" or that this man was the Headmaster of Ilvermorny.

"I can see you've integrated very well with the No-Maj society," Agilbert commented while spooning chowder from his bowl, "even though you've been working closely with MACUSA since you returned from England."

"Oh yes," George agreed. "I mean, it's not that different from the wizarding society, other than the fact that they get by without magic. Their life is simple too, and safer if you ask me."

"Hear hear," Agilbert said. "Oh, and where's Lucy?"

"Unfortunately it's her shift now at the hospital so she can't make it."

"What a shame. Well, could you tell her that the cauldron cakes she sent me were delicious but a bit more nutmeg should do the trick."

Ryan was distracted from the conversation by Peanut begging for scraps from under the table. He glanced at the adults before sneaking a bit of food for the dog when George said, "I hate to jump to business before the meal's finished but I believe you wanted to speak to Ryan and see the relevant documents before deciding whether he can register to Ilvermorny."

"Oh, yes," Agilbert nodded before dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

Ryan felt uncomfortable now that the attention was on him so he pretended to be busy eating his food. Fortunately, he didn't have to be dragged into discussion as Agilbert simply had a look at his student record. "Hm, I've noticed you've been on top of your game but it seems that it's gone ... downhill this year." Agilbert regarded the boy across the table.

Ryan felt his cheeks heat in embarrassment. He hadn't cared about much academic performance since his mother passed away. He didn't really care that his results were bad. But the way Agilbert and George were wearing the same looks of concern made him feel as though he were belittled, despite Agilbert's gentle tone. Ryan simply gave a shrug and went back to his food. "Had a rough year," he said simply.

"His mother passed away," George clarified in a quiet tone. "He had a hard time grieving for her."

"That's rather unfortunate," Agilbert said. He was silent for a few moments, studying Ryan during that period before drawing his attention away to peruse Ryan's records. By then, a thoughtful look had settled itself upon his features. "I'm very sorry, but I can't accept Ryan into the fourth year. He doesn't seem to be prepared for it, judging from his grades," he said. "But I'd be happy to let him redo his third year at Ilvermorny. I believe he deserves a chance, despite having gone through a trying period."

"Oh. Oh, thank goodness." George had blanched during the first half of Agilbert's sentence but some color returned to his face at the rest of it. He looked at Ryan, expecting his reaction to have been mirrored, but his son now appeared disinterested in the discussion; George released a disappointed sigh under his breath.

After dinner when Agilbert had left, Ryan escaped to his room to be alone with his thoughts. Obviously with his end-of-year grades, he knew they weren't impressive enough - apart from the fact they were terrible - to secure him a place in fourth year. However the tiniest pang of regret formed after having arrived at realization he had allowed himself slip the last semester. Now he was held back and had to repeat a year, which meant he was wasting time. The fact that Ryan allowed himself to be attacked by his own mind instead of shutting down his thoughts meant that he fell asleep exhausted after pointless rounds of self-accusations that made him cry.

It was around midnight when he woke up, feeling thirsty. Normally, he would do his best to ignore the dry feeling in his mouth and throat by snuggling deeper into the safety and comfort of his covers until his eyelids grew heavy and he slipped away into sleep. But tonight was different. The feeling as though his mouth was filled with sawdust and the heat of the night stifling the air pushed him to abandon his bed in search of water.

Kicking off the sheets, Ryan shuffled his way downstairs to the kitchen. After draining the glass of water, he switched off the lights in the kitchen and left the room. This was where it started.

***

George and Lucy didn't leave any lights on at night so the corridor to the stairs Ryan was walking down was dark, except for light filtering in from the windows from the other room and the fan-shaped glass panes on the front door. At first, he didn't think much of the darkness but every step he took gradually allowed the unease to build up; his pace slowed when he became more aware of how dark it was.

Logically, he was safe and sound. He had nothing to worry about. It was him, George, Lucy and Peanut in the house. There was no crazy woman in the house to cast the Cruciatus curse on him. Obviously she could not be here - she didn't follow them all the way to America. Or did she?

Shadows seemed to move at the corner of his sight. He had a distinct feeling of being watched yet he knew there was no one lurking in the dark. His inner reasoning was useless and did not help to convince the anxiousness that stemmed from the darkness, which reminded him too much of the night he was attacked.

The onslaught of irrational fear and immense discomfort began when he climbed the stairs. He tried to tell himself to stop being ridiculous as he was as safe as he could be in this house. However his chest started to tighten on its own accord, causing him to be aware of his heart throbbing almost painfully in his chest and his breaths to shorten. Sweat was starting to break out on his skin, which was starting to flush. The back of his neck tingled strangely. Images were rising in his mind's eye, latching themselves on his consciousness.

He was gripping the balustrade tightly, muttering under his breath that there wasn't anything he should be worried about. His head was swimming when he reached the top landing; the floor and walls around him were swaying towards and away from him. Rasping breaths were dragging out of his throat, forcing him to clamp his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound he was making; it was like someone had clamped over his throat.

By the time he got to his room, Ryan was suffocated, shaking like a leaf, and found himself crouched on the floor. "No, no, this isn't like that night," he muttered under his breath. The images - no, they were no longer still pictures now but memories - were invading his mind now. They came in waves, pulling him with the undertow. And he slipped and plunged below the waves.

It was an understatement to call it unbearable. It was like losing control of what was real. It was the agony of reliving that memory in full vividness.

Ryan was no longer in his room in Lexington, Massachussetts. He was back in his room in his house in Bristol. He was on the ground, staring up at The Woman. The intense thudding of his heart against his chest told him this was it. Fear was coursing through his veins yet his limbs were locked in place as though steel rivets were fastened tightly at his joints to prevent movement. He could see her raise her wand, the cruel quirk of her lips, and the red light flashing. And he heard a boy a scream.

Screaming without a pause for breath. Screaming like he was being assaulted with searing-hot knives tearing into his skin and burning his insides as quickly as flesh had been sliced apart. Screaming. Just screaming.

***

It was difficult for him to calm himself down but by the time he did, he was beyond exhausted and didn't have the energy to drag himself to bed. So he slept there on the floor until morning came. But sleep did nothing to rid him of fatigue, in fact, it only heightened that sense of tiredness. He laid there, unmoving for some time with hopes that he might shut his eyes and drift away but his eyelids refused to shut.

"You need to get up," he told himself. He didn't move nor was he inclined to. However the moment he heard footsteps approaching the door, he let out a sigh and pulled himself to a sitting position - there was no point rousing worry for him from either Lucy or George as he wasn't in the mood to entertain questions. As soon as he got up, the door opened and George peered inside.

Noticing Ryan was already awake, George broke into a grin that his son didn't reciprocate and showed him an envelope proudly. "Look, this came in the morning."

"How exciting," Ryan deadpanned, wincing when he was aware of a painful crick in his neck. He eyed the envelope warily as he massaged his nape with his hand. "What's this?" he asked.

"Oh, just take it," George prompted. When he noticed Ryan's hesitation, he let out a mildly exasperated sigh and handed it to his son. "It's a letter from Ilvermorny," he explained.

Ryan had the urge to snap at his father that, yes, it was obvious that the letter came from the American Wizarding school from the wax seal at the back of the envelope, but he had no energy whatsoever. Lifting the flap, he removed the letter. The parchment unfurled smoothly under his fingertips when he began to read.

Before Ryan even had a chance to tell George about how he about the letter, his father had already started babbling about bringing him back to Nightingale's Lane to buy school supplies as though Ryan had already expressed his excitement to attend Ilvermorny when he was feeling the near opposite of it. This matter had lingered at the back of his head for some time now ever since he had discussed it with Lindsey and Jimmy earlier this year.

Ilvermorny was  _not_  like Hogwarts.

His best friends had pored over books in the school library to help Ryan get an idea of what his new school might be like. They showed him a few descriptions in hopes that they could help him get familiar with Ilvermorny. But when Ryan tried to recall those details his mind went frustratingly blank. Walking into that school might as well be the same was walking into a dense fog.

The thought of it succeeded in making Ryan feel even more out of place in this unfamiliar land.


	9. to ilvermorny

The rest of the summer was an agonizingly long wait for Ryan, which he wished would fast forward itself to the day he would have to leave this wretched house for Ilvermorny. But as the big day grew closer, how he felt about the flow of time began to change. He dreaded going to the American Wizarding School but at the same time he wanted to get away from this stifling place he was forced to call home. Things weren't getting any better in his head either and the worst part was he was too afraid to even admit that whatever was going on was getting worse.

At night, that feeling of discomfort and unease would plant itself in Ryan, convincing him that he needed to be on alert, that any moment now that crazy Woman would appear. He'd also become unnecessarily irritable and sometimes had trouble focusing on things. His nightmares were getting worse. He often woke up in the middle of the night in cold sweat with the urge to throw up - he never left his bed, no way, but still fear managed to slither its way into his head and poison his mind and body. Eventually he became afraid to fall asleep at night because that was when his nightmares would take on a vivid quality that was too real to be considered 'just a dream'.

Ryan had hoped whatever it was that was bothering his mind would go away but it didn't, and the signs didn't go unnoticed by George or Lucy. A couple of times did they ask him whether he wanted to speak to someone regarding this matter and every time he'd swat their efforts away, insisting stubbornly that he was fine; he didn't trust them much, skeptical of all the concern they were showing him. His refusal to admit he was suffering backfired, obviously, but he wasn't willing to acknowledge that.

The only creature he'd bear to show him concern was Peanut. In a detached sense, he found it odd that he had placed his trust in a dog, an animal that could not speak the language of humans, yet every time he heard the patter of her feet or her head playfully butting into him, a rare smile would grace his lips. There were a few times he managed to speak a little bit about how he felt and Peanut would make noises of affirmation - strange whine-barks - and it never failed to make him feel slightly better.

But the end of summer came all too soon and the night before Ryan had to leave for Ilvermorny, he cried. It was not the sort of loud wailing nor the quiet sobbing. It was the sort that involved willing himself not to cry while he stroked Peanut's fur and then his eyes tearing up on their own accord when Peanut sidling up to him. He hugged the corgi and didn't let her go for a long time.

After that, he made himself get up and collect himself before packing while Peanut tried to help - mostly by whine-barking in affirmation while he arranged his school supplies which had been bought from Nightingale's Lane a week ago and some of his clothes inside the trunk in a methodical albeit robotic manner. He had also packed the picture frame of him and his mother from Bristol but a sentimental part of him convinced him to take the photograph that was taken when his family was whole and he wasn't messed up by his parents' divorce with him.

Ryan didn't sleep as well as he hoped he'd be that night but at least Peanut was there to calm him down when he had his usual nightmares again. Came morning and Ryan dragged himself downstairs to have breakfast with George and Lucy. They had outdone themselves this time, cooking up a stack of pancakes drizzled in maple syrup and a plate with sunny side-ups, perfect bacon strips and crunchy toast. It was too much of an effort, in Ryan's opinion, but he was too tired to tell them otherwise and decided to humor them instead.

Ryan and George left the house by noon and the journey to Mount Greylock, where Ilvermorny was located, took about two and a half hours. The ride there wasn't as awkward as Ryan had thought it'd be like although he wished George would shut up instead of babbling about all his schoolboy adventures in Ilvermorny - it couldn't be that great, could it? The American Wizarding School was established later than Hogwarts too so what were the chances that it could achieve as much as Hogwarts did, right?

"I was sorted into Thunderbird, did I mention that?" George was saying for what felt like the hundredth time now. "It's the house that favors the adventurers or those who wander."

 _No wonder you wandered away from your family_ , Ryan thought bitterly to himself. _By Merlin, I hope I don't get Sorted into that wretched house. I'd rather chop my wand hand off._

Mount Greylock grew closer and closer as they drove towards their destination; if Ryan had to be completely honest and unbiased, he'd say it looked very impressive indeed with its rolling green slopes.

"No-Majs can't see this road. Well, not unless they've been told about it," George said as he drove onto a separate lane that deviated away from the main road, one that led into the forest. He explained that it led to the Stewardsmark, a small village, where all the returning Ilvermorny students would meet up before their carriage ride to the school. "It's not much compared to Bootshaven, which is closer up to Ilvermorny," George was saying as they pulled up in a parking lot, which Ryan thought was a curiously Muggle-like thing to have in a wizarding community, "think of it as something like Hogsmeade."

Ryan stared at the throngs of students gathering here. There was even a train station nearby, although George explained that was for the students who lived far away from Massachusetts. The dread he had been feeling began to thaw, allowing his imnate curiosity to bloom. One would've thought he'd be leaping out of the car but he stayed there in his seat, even after George had switched off the ignition - Ryan was wary. This wasn't Hogwarts. This was foreign ground.

"I'll help take your stuff out while you ... get adjusted to the sight," George said, noticing how pale Ryan's worried face had become. "Don't worry, everyone here's pretty friendly."

"You don't know that." Ryan unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car. His legs felt like they had been turned to jelly from the long ride. It took him a few moments to get used to that unsteady feeling by pacing about until the sensation was gone. Then he walked round the car to the boot where George was standing by, peering longingly at the small village of Stewardsmark. Ryan thought it didn't look like much - less impressive than Hogsmeade in his opinion.

"I'd really love to wait here with you till your carriage ride at six," George said and Ryan cringed slightly, "but I have to get to work." George turned to Ryan, wearing a sentimental look on his face. It seemed there was something he wanted to say yet he was mulling over it. "Listen, Ryan," he began, sighing. "I know you don't like me much but before you go, I just want you to know that I'm sorry, for a lot of things. I'm sorry that I wasn't a good father and that I broke yours and Danielle's heart --"

Ryan's heart constricted painfully in his chest at the mention of his mother's name on George's lips.

"-- and I'm sorry I didn't make any attempts to contact you either to show that I still care. I just thought ... you and her might be better off without me in your lives." George paused. "And I'm sorry I failed to protect you that night. I truly am."

Ryan turned his gaze away to the ground, not wanting his father to notice how his face had paled because he knew exactly what his father meant. "Whatever."

"Ryan, I love you. It doesn't mean much to you now, because you're still angry at me, but I just want you to know that." George looked as if he wanted to say more but his lips folded shut and he gave a tight nod. Ryan knew that expression; he wore that too whenever he was on the verge of crying yet he didn't want to do so in front of someone. Even if he hated George, there was a part of Ryan's heart that hurt seeing his father this way.

"See you, George," Ryan said and pulled his trunk away. It was but a small step towards forgiveness but at least it was a step.

▬▬▬

Ryan thought he wouldn't feel homesick, especially after he was attacked in his former home in Bristol, but this kind of feeling he was experiencing was definitely different from what he'd feel like. Amongst all these American students, all of whom were already dressed in the official Ilvermorny robes, exchanging banter and laughing, made him miss Hogwarts a lot. Though Stewardsmark was nothing compared to Hogsmeade or Kings Cross, the atmosphere here seemed to be a mix of two.

Some of the returning students and their families milled about the cramped streets, occasionally walking into the stores together or uttering their teary goodbyes to each other. Others were dispersed in tiny groups, all chattering excitedly among one another about gossip or what they'd should be expecting to learn that year.

"I hope Professor Byrne has forgotten he assigned us homework," said one student who appeared to be older than Ryan was by few years.

"Are you kidding?" the student's friend responded in disbelief. "That man has photographic memory. He never forgets anything!"

"We could try whacking his head when he's asleep?"

Ryan visited a sports supply store but was disappointed and confused as to why there was so little Quidditch equipment on sale. Instead, they were selling Quodpot equipment, which Ryan heard was a sport that was all the rage in America, and some assortment of Muggle sports equipment. After that he went to a store called Sweet Tooth Candy Shoppe out of curiosity.

There were rows and rows of visually appealing candy, coming in different shapes, sizes and color. Though he was tempted to buy them all, Ryan restrained himself and decided to look at the Imported Candy section. Sadly, the only candy he could find that came from UK was the Cockroach Cluster and Licorice Wands, which were not his favorites. As the store was crowded, he had to squeeze his way around to have a look at the American Candy. In the end, he decided to buy some Chocolate Frogs, wanting to see whether they tasted as good as the ones sold in Honeydukes at Hogsmeade. Wriggling his way out of the store, Ryan wandered around until he found a place to sit in a public garden where there were less people around.

He opened the Chocolate Frog box, making sure to hold fast to the candy as it would jump and bit into its head. The first thing he thought of the candy that it was sweeter than he preferred - milk chocolate, not dark chocolate. With a frown, he checked the box's label to ensure he had gotten the right one when he noticed the card that usually came with the candy was different. A witch with a haughty but regal air named Seraphina Picquery was on his card. He didn't recognize her so he was certain she was not part of the collectible wizards from the UK Chocolate Frogs.

As he wasn't interested in who the witch was, he simply dumped the card in his trunk and set off to wander once more until he found himself in a secondhand bookstore. There weren't many students here, fortunately, so noise levels were at the minimum - the intimidating old lady at the counter proved to be one of the factors that made the students want to keep their voices dow. Ryan whiled his time in that store till late in the afternoon, browsing books.

While he was having a look at the shelves dedicated to old textbooks, he was reaching for a curious-looking book that was belted shut when a voice said, "I wouldn't try touching that if I were you." Ryan stopped short, looking to his right to find a boy shaking his head at him.

"Why not?" Ryan asked though his hand hadn't moved away.

"Er, that's The Monster Book of Monsters." At Ryan's stare of incomprehension, the boy let out a laugh. "It'll bite you if you open it," he said as if that explained things. Ryan simply arched his eyebrows in response, showing his incredulity, but drew his hand away after a moment's hesitation. It was that moment when he did a once-over the boy.

It seemed that the boy was probably a year or two older than he was. The boy was a brunet, had friendly brown eyes and a cheerful smile that somehow put Ryan at ease. He had an easygoing aura about him and seemed to find Ryan's initial stubbornness amusing instead of annoying. Like other students coming to study at Ilvermorny, he was dressed in the official uniform - white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and cranberry-colored pants - except for the robes.

The boy, it appeared, was examining Ryan's appearance as well. Their gazes met and the boy smiled once more, but this time in a shy manner. "Sorry," he began sheepishly, "but I don't recall seeing you around at Ilvermorny."

"Oh, I'm new here," Ryan said, suddenly feeling self-conscious. There had to be hundreds of students, from what he saw outside, but the fact that he was recognized as an outsider made him feel even more uncomfortable.

"Really?" The boy looked surprised. "Well, you must be a transfer student then - I mean, you have to be. You look too old to be a first-year. And you've got a little accent too --"

"Bristolian, but it's faint."

The boy looked like he was about to say some more but a girl had poked her head round the corner of one of the shelf rows and said, "C'mon, B, we gotta go if we want the good seats."

"What?" B frowned in confusion. "But it's - oh," he checked his wristwatch, realizing what time it was, before shooting Ryan an apologetic grin. "Sorry, I gotta go," he said as though Ryan hadn't heard his friend, "'cause, y'know, me and my friends wanna get into the first few carriages. You should probably get a move on. Anyway, I hope I'll see you around, maybe in my house? You seem nice. Oh, I'm in Thunderbird, by the way --" B was interrupted by his friend clearing her throat.

Giving Ryan a mock salute, B disappeared out of the store with the girl. As he left, Ryan couldn't help but feel as though he had missed an opportunity to make friends here so he didn't have to feel left out among all these people. With a sigh, he decided to heed B's advice and left the store.

▬▬▬

Apparently, the carriage ride from Stewardsmark to Ilvermorny would take at least two hours at most so that meant either Ryan had to share a carriage with other people - he didn't want that - or try to find an empty one. To his luck, he managed to find one, which was the last one waiting in line behind at least three dozen carriages in front.

The vehicles also looked like they could fit four persons, maximum, but with the amount of students popping up at Stewardsmark, Ryan figured there was probably some advanced Extension Charms used to accommodate the numbers. Another thing Ryan noted was that the carriages were drawn by Thestrals, eerie skeletal-like horses with black manes, reptillian features and large leathery wings, just like those at Hogwarts. Only Ryan and a few others could see them as they had witnessed and accepted the reality of death.

After stepping into the carriage he had chosen, Ryan was relieved to find no one here. The size of the carriage's interior was enough to fit a table for fifteen, a kitchenette and a bathroom in the corner. Ryan immediately felt at ease that he didn't have to share this space with anyone, except for B as he was great company, and had just taken a seat at the head of the table when the door burst open.

Ryan's head swiveled at once, annoyed someone had decided to show up when a bespectacled boy stepped inside, panting and sweating. "Thank God I'm just in time. There's no way in hell am I getting left behind again!" the boy exclaimed to no one in particular, dumped his drawstring bag on one of the chairs and sat down at the table to catch his breath. What irked Ryan was how he didn't apologize for barging in rudely, so Ryan stared at the boy with his annoyance radiating off him.

The boy took no notice of Ryan's reaction, instead began to paw through his bag then said, "I'm telling you, Dallon, this will be the year --"

"I'm not Dallon."

The boy froze then looked up from his bag to find a half-exasperated half-baffled Ryan staring at him. The boy's eyes rounded with realization when his cheeks turned a bright shade of pink. Snapping his mouth shut, he peered around as though this Dallon person he mentioned was hiding somewhere in the carriage before facing Ryan. A sheepish smile was plastered on his features. He had this kind of naive air about him - either that or he was probably absentminded and stupid.

"Sorry, I thought you were Dallon," the boy said.

Unable to keep his mouth shut, Ryan said, "Well, you might need to get your eyes checked. Your glasses might not be correcting your vision as well as you thought."

The boy flushed into a darker shade of pink. "Oh, my eyesight is perfectly fine," he insisted though he sounded defensive. "The glasses are magicked. I just wear them to keep me alert."

"Doesn't seem to be helping, does it?"

"I guess," the boy mumbled, looking self-conscious, and removed his glasses at once. Then he gave Ryan this look that lasted long enough to make Ryan feel uncomfortable before he asked, "Where did you say you were from?"

"I didn't say anything," Ryan replied warily.

The boy continued to stare at him again, but there was a gleam of amusement in his eyes. A sudden smile curled the corners of his lips. "Say something posh," he requested like a child asking for candy.

"Pardon?"

"Something posh," the boy repeated slowly and over-enunciating his words.

"Why would I want to say something posh?" Ryan was growing more exasperated and bewildered by the second because of this strange boy.

"Because," the boy began, "your accent kinda reminds me of, well, England. So I thought, hey don't all English people have posh accents?"

Ryan didn't know if he should feel offended that this boy was terribly misinformed on how people from England actually sounded like or incredulous that this boy believed in English stereotypes. "Not everyone," he said slowly, "in England speaks the Queen's English."

"What's that?"

"That bloody posh accent you think everyone in bloody England has."

"Jeez, no need to swear --"

"And, just so you know, I'm sure it's the same in America too with that bit about accents. Every person from different regions - sorry, states - has a different way of saying things," Ryan continued as though the boy hadn't said anything.

"So is yours Cockney?"

Ryan was conflicted between educating or hexing this ignoramus. "It's supposed to be Bristolian, but it's faint because I spent a lot of time away from home."

"Oh. So, any chance that you learned posh English stuff?"

Ryan expelled a loud sigh, raking his hands through his hair in utter frustration. He got up from the table, chair squeaking noisily behind him as he paced about the carriage. Counting under his breath, he gave himself a million reasons why he should waste less of his time and breath explaining to this idiot. "Who are you?" he demanded, giving the boy a shock. "Your name?"

The boy blinked a few times, still shocked, but managed to say, "Brendon. Brendon Urie."

"I'm warning you, Urie. I'm in a terrible mood right now so unless you don't want me to hex you out of spite --" Ryan paused for a breath, his hand grasping his wand inside his robes, "-- please shut up."

Brendon opened his mouth to reply before he shut it and nodded, giving Ryan a look of fearful fascination. He successfully remained silent for half an hour, watching Ryan out of the corner of his eye and looking away hastily when Ryan shot him nasty glares as if to remind him that hexes would be thrown in his direction if he didn't stay quiet. After thirty minutes, more or less, had flown by, Brendon picked up the courage to speak as Ryan seemed to have calm down and was sitting as far away as possible from him at the other end of the table.

"So, uh ..." Brendon's tone was careful. "I didn't catch your name earlier."

Ryan, having calmed down from being angry when he came to the realization that it was simply not good for him to be spending his energy on being angry on an idiot, gave Brendon an exasperated but weary look. "It's Ryan Ross," he answered.

"What year will you studying at Ilvermorny?" Brendon ventured.

"Third year," Ryan said.

"Oh." Brendon stayed silent for a bit. "D'you have any idea which house you're going to be Sorted into? Do they have those in Pigsfart? At your old school?"

"Hogwarts," Ryan corrected, irritated that Brendon had made such a maddening mistake on naming his previous school. "Yes, we do. They were named after the four founders of the school: Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. I am - was - in Slytherin."

"What's that?"

"The house of snakes."

"Oh." Somehow, Brendon looked a bit disappointed to Ryan. "Well, here in Ilvermorny, we have four houses too but they're all named after the founders' favorite mythical creatures. There's Isolt Sayre, who loves the Horned Serpent; James Steward with the Pukwudgie; Chadwick and the Thunderbird, and Webster, who thinks Wampus Cats are the best." He paused. "I won't be surprised if you'll end up in Horned Serpent," he added. "Snakes and all."

Ryan could only think about B at that moment, with his charming smile, and wondered if he could end up in Thunderbird. But then that was his father's house as well, so he was conflicted as to which house he'd rather be in. In fact, he hadn't any knowledge what the Ilvermorny houses stood for. But what was the point of speculating, anyway? In the end it was all down to the Sorting. That was when he was aware he didn't know how the Sorting ceremony would be carried out.

Despite his worry, Ryan didn't question Brendon on the matter. Instead, he decided to mind his own business by staring out the window, where they were passing by a remarkably lush green forest. They were coming round a bend that ran along a hiking trail used by Muggles. He was hardly surprised when the Muggles spared no second looks and were too busy appreciating nature - and their ignorance on wizarding affairs - than to have noticed the carriages passing by.

"I've got some candy here." Brendon's voice broke into Ryan's thoughts. He was pawing through his bag again, this time with his whole arm inside. Sighing when he couldn't retrieve what he was looking for, he pulled his hand out and produced a wand from his pocket. "Accio candy!" Immediately confectionery of different types shot out of the bag and landed noisily on the table.

Ryan peered curiously but was disappointed to not see any familiar British candy. Brendon offered him some but he said, "I don't fancy American candy," he said, thinking of that dreadfully sweet Chocolate Frog.

"Fancy? Who uses that word in that context anymore?" Brendon asked disappointed while he helped himself to a Rainbow Pop. Ryan ignored his question. "Anyway, that's too bad," Brendon said quickly. "Some of them taste really good."

That was the last proper conversation they had since the beginning of the carriage ride and Ryan hoped it'd stay that way because he was now weary of Brendon's company. He was relieved when they neared the school. Peering out the window, Ryan didn't think he'd be amazed to see the large, wrought iron gates that opened up to the grounds of an impressively grand castle - yes, it was grander than the Hogwarts castle. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen it on the way up Mount Greylock so he deduced it must've been concealed with powerful magic.

The carriages deposited the students at the front steps of the castle. Just as Ryan's carriage rolled to a stop, the door opened and revealed an ugly, goblin-like creature. It was about three feet tall, had sharp fangs protruding from its mouth, a large nose and spikes sticking out from the back of its head down its back like a porcupine. It also had unappealing gray skin covered in warts and seemed to be scowling at Ryan.

"Well, I'll be," the creature spoke in a gravelly voice. "We've gotten ourselves a new transfer this year, eh?"

Ryan was still startled by its appearance to even answer for himself. Brendon walked past him, unfazed by the ugly appearance of the creature and said, "Definitely." He then leaned closer to its ear and whispered, "He's British."

"He'd better be a good one. I've had enough of cleaning up after all these ungrateful whippersnappers. Now move it, Brit." The creature jabbed its thumb over its shoulder. "I ain't got all night for you to stare at my pretty face." As Ryan was in no mood to argue that the creature's face wasn't pretty or to continue staring at it, he quickly got off the carriage and hurried up the stone steps. The large set of oaken double doors were wide open, allowing returning students to enter as they pleased. Marble statues of a man and a woman flanked either sides of the doors, bearing plaques that read James Steward and Isolt Sayre respectively.

With the steady stream of students going inside, Ryan found himself disoriented by the movement around him and stood by the door. He felt a sudden surge of apprehension that twisted his insides; he couldn't spot a familiar face anywhere and this was starting to scare him a lot.

"You there! British kid!" A voice called, prompting Ryan to turn around. He was greeted by the sight of that ugly creature once more; he wondered if it was too late to run off with everyone else. The creature hobbled its way up the stairs to Ryan. "Follow me," it said with a wave of its hand. Being the cautious person he was, Ryan hesitated, doubting this creature would be the best guide on unfamiliar ground, but eventually followed after it.

The creature led him through the Entrance Hall, which was a sizeable circular room that was covered by a glass dome. The space in the center of the room would've been empty had it not been for the enormous wooden carvings standing around a large circle with the symbol of the Gordian Knot set into the stone floor - this was where the Sorting would take place. A balcony ran around the room a floor above it and was being filled with students.

Ryan's eyes searched the crowd when he saw B squeezing his way past two boys. When their eyes met, B flashed him an encouraging smile.

"Oi, get a move on and join the first years here, Brit!"

Ryan hurried over to the side of the room where a line of first year students stood, whispering amongst themselves. He felt silly standing with these kids as he was older than them. Would people think he was a first year and laugh at him because he was older than eleven, as most of these kids were? Worry tangled his insides, giving him a slight wave of nausea; he was glad he didn't eat anything earlier, though.

"You're big for an eleven year old," a girl in front of Ryan remarked.

"I'm not eleven," Ryan clarified. "I'm fourteen and I'm a transfer student."

"Ooh, from which school?"

"Hogwarts."

The girl looked like she wanted to ask more questions but diverted her attention away quickly when the Headmaster's voice boomed around the Entrance Hall. Agilbert was standing in the middle of the Gordian Knot, wand pointed at his throat as he was using an Amplifying Charm to be heard over the din. He gave a speech, welcoming the returning students and teachers for "coming back with all their limbs attached and sanity intact" and proceeded to announce that the Sorting ceremony would take place now.

It was almost like being in Hogwarts for the first time - Ryan could feel the dead weight of worry and anticipation pushing down on him but also the strange uplifting sensation of exhilaration. One by one, the first year students were called to step in the center of the Gordian Knot before the wooden carvings. Witnessing this event, Ryan would admit Ilvermorny's Sorting was more interesting that Hogwarts; apparently, one of the wooden carvings would react to the student.

Finally, it was Ryan's turn but instead of calling out his name, Agilbert proceeded to announce Ilvermorny would be welcoming a Hogwarts student to their ranks. A hush fell over the hall, every student listening keenly to the Headmaster's words while Ryan tried to make himself as small as possible and avoid all the stares that suddenly turned on him the moment Agilbert gestured towards him. He could hear the dull thudding of his heart against his ribcage in his ears, and feel it all the way to his toes.

"George Ryan Ross the Third," Agilbert called, "please step forward and stand before the House guardians."

At that point, everything suddenly took on a surreal detail. It was like part of his consciousness had floated away, leaving him lightheaded and proceeding towards the center of the room in a robotic-like manner. The world around him was blocked out by the roar of blood in his ears. He barely heard Agilbert's words of reassurance or felt the encouraging pat on his shoulder. Taking his place before the guardians, Ryan looked at the one he was facing then peered around him.

The one he was facing was the Wampus, a fearsome big cat with a lithe body, frozen in a leaping position. The guardian to his left was a writhing serpent rising from a river, with horns that had a jewel set in the center of its forehead - the Horned Serpent. To his right was the Thunderbird, a gigantic eagle-like bird with two pairs of wings that were spread, making it look like the letter X. The guardian behind him was a goblin-like being, holding an arrow, that resembled the creature that led Ryan earlier.

At first the guardians didn't react to him, instead remained fixed about their positions. It wasn't the immediate response Ryan had expected the carvings would give as he had hoped, so that he could get over with this at once. A ripple of murmurs ran through the hall but Ryan couldn't hear them as he was detached from his surroundings by the suspense. Thump, thump, thump went his heartbeat. He shut his eyes and crossed his fingers behind his back.

Suddenly, the Hall was filled with gasps, followed by thunderous cheers. Ryan didn't dare to open his eyes until someone gave a tap on his shoulder. Then, he opened them and looked hopefully at the guardians. He didn't know what to expect yet there he was, hoping either Thunderbird or Horned Serpent had chosen him.

The Wampus didn't open its mouth to roar, the Horned Serpent's jewel wasn't glowing and the Thunderbird was not beating its almighty wings.

Ryan turned on his heel, slowly, before raising his gaze with a bated breath at the guardian behind him.

It had raised its arrow.

Ryan now belonged to the House of the Pukwudgie.

 


	10. fitting in

Ryan didn't know how to feel about the Pukwudgie carving before him. Before he could let his Sorting sink in, he was told to go to another room where the rest of the newly sorted would gather. He did as he was told, entering the mentioned room, which was smaller than the Entrance Hall. The first-years had lined up once more, but this time they were all craning their heads and standing on their tiptoes. They were whispering amongst themselves again and when Ryan was about to ask the girl in front of him what was going on when he noticed a table with numerous of wands laid on it.

"I would like to congratulate everyone here. You are now officially an Ilvermorny student," Agilbert said, appearing in the room. There was a proud smile on his face. "Now, as you all might know, after the Sorting ceremony is the Wand-Choosing ceremony."

 _Don't they buy their own wands?_  Ryan thought to himself with a frown while Agilbert explained how the ceremony would go and what the students should bear in mind ("The wand chooses its owner.") He felt inside the folds of his robe until his fingertips touched his wand. "Sir?" he called out, his voice cutting off the excited murmurs rising from the first-years. "I have my own wand," he said. The kids' heads whipped around, watching as Ryan produced his wand from his robe.

"Ah, I see." Agilbert nodded his head then gestured to a woman beside him. "In that case, you may show your wand to Ms Wolfe here to have it examined." He said before turning to the first years, who were standing on their tiptoes to see what kind of wand Ryan had and whether it looked anything like the ones that were laid out on the bale.

"Hmm." Ms Wolfe took Ryan's wand once he handed it to her, scrutinizing the it from every angle. "Pine wood," she said observantly though how she could tell by looking, Ryan wasn't sure. "Ten inches and three-quarters with dragon heartstring core. Inflexible." She paused, eyes flickering with recognition. "Is this an Ollivander product?"

"Yes. I got it from his shop in Diagon Alley."

"Of course you did," she murmured. "They're a highly respected family of wandmakers." Clearing a throat, she waved Ryan's wand in a circular motion with a flick her wrist.

At first, Ryan thought it might've been a spell similar to Lumos as a silvery light shot out from the wand. He was proven wrong when the light coalesced into a handsome stallion, who tossed his mane in an impressive manner. Ryan stared at the stallion, amazed, and reached his hand out to touch it. But his fingertips brushed air where the body of the stallion should be when the stallion faded. "What was that?" he asked.

"A Patronus Charm," Ms Wolfe answered, looking pleased with herself. "It's good for keeping Dementors at bay or passing messages - if it can form a corporeal form like mine." Before Ryan could ask more questions, she handed his wand back to him. "The wood your wand is made of is very sensitive to non-verbal magic, which would be great for duels, although the wand is a bit stubborn though I believe that's due to the nature of the core. Anyway, it's in good condition and I don't think you'd need a replacement ... unless you want an American-made wand." She gestured behind her where a first-year was testing out a wand.

The first-year gave a wave when there was suddenly an explosion. Everyone in the room was startled, staring at the student whose face was now black in soot and was putting the wand down in a haste. "Definitely not that one," said an assistant to the student in question.

▬▬▬

After the Wand Choosing, Ryan and the first-years were allowed to go to the Dining Hall where everyone was waiting for them. Ryan went last in the line, hoping all the attention would be given to the first years the moment they passed by the great doors but there were a few students waved at him as though he were their long lost friends.

The Dining Hall was, in every aspect, similar to the Great Hall of Hogwarts but there were a few differences Ryan noticed right away.

One of them was that the size of the room was bigger to accomodate the number of people present. The house banners weren't colorful, only coming in blue or red with the silver-and-gold outlined house emblem. The ceilings weren't enchanted to show the sky outside, in fact, it just looked like a regular ceiling with painted images of cherubs surrounded fluffy white clouds against a blue sky. There was music, which seemed to be a Muggle classical piece that was playing from somewhere. It wasn't particularly useful as the noise coming from students and teachers alike was louder.

Ryan made his way to the Pukwudgie table with the newly-chosen first years. Like every other house, Pukwudgie burst into whoops and cheers as they greeted the new additions to the house. For a moment, Ryan panicked because the seats that had been left for the newcomers were all taken when he heard someone calling, "Ryan! Ryan, over here!"

Ryan allowed himself to feel relieved and grateful before seeing who was offering him a seat when he looked up to find the person he only saw Brendon waving his arms wildly at him, wearing a huge grin that could split his face apart if he smiled any wider. A perplexed frown plastered itself on Ryan's features as he stopped short then glanced around to see if anyone else had saved a seat for him. When he realized it was only Brendon, he gave up and trudged over to the said boy.

Unlike Hogwarts, the students didn't have to wait for the Headmaster to make a speech and everyone seemed to know it was time to eat the moment food appeared on the table. At the sight of all the delicious dishes, Ryan's stomach grumbled.

While he helped himself to some food, introductions and questions were directed to him, often relayed from the far ends of the table or across him. He did his best to answer them but fortunately he was left alone when Brendon told everyone to let him eat his food, which he was grateful because he was hungry, but at the same time mildly annoyed because he would've started ignoring them all anyway.

Once everyone's stomachs were filled, the student councillors of each house - that was what they called Prefects here, apparently - led everyone to their respective houses. Leading them tonight was a pair of Pukwudgie's student councillors. "Keep up, kiddos," the one with bright-red hair told the first-years who were all gawking at the hallways they passed.

Meanwhile Brendon was giving Ryan a running commentary that was never asked for. "So this way," Brendon said, pointing and nearly taking Ryan's nose off, "leads to the Astronomy Tower. The other way goes to the Horned Serpent Common Room." Ryan tuned out on the commentary, apart from shooting Brendon a dirty look every time he nearly hit Ryan by pointing fast.

The councillors led them out of the castle and towards a path that led to the greenhouses. Some of the older students had casted will-o-wisps to light up their way. They passed by the greenhouses and came to a stop at what looked like a small shed. With the light provided by the will-o-wisps, Ryan could make out the words "Gardening Tools" painted crudely on the door.

The councillors informed the first-year Pukwudgies that a password was required to access the common room otherwise one would only find themself surrounded by gardening equipment. " _Indica_ ," said the bright red-haired councillor, Josh. Giving the doorknob a twist and entered the shed beckoning the rest to follow. While the shed appeared to fit two people at most, everyone was filing inside as though it was hardly a tiny shed at all.

When Ryan crossed the threshold he found himself in a room that looked like a spacey but cozy living room. A few of the noticable quirks of the Pukwudgie common room was how there was a wall with a shelf that was filled with of apothecary jars with all sorts of dried herbs, useless knick-knacks decorating the room and the mantel that was crammed with out-of-season ornaments. There was also a distinct smell of incense though what it was, Ryan couldn't immediately identify.

The older students either shot off to their dorms or remained in the common room while the councillors rounded up the newcomers. They produced lists from their robe pockets and began calling out names to assign the students to their dorms - they did so in pairs. Ryan guessed the rooms were different here from Slytherin where all boys in the year shared a dorm together. However, as the number of students grew smaller and smaller, he began to fret. He had been prepared to share a room with a first-year but by the time the last pair of boys left for the dorm, he was wondering whether he'd end up in a room all by himself.

"Ah, George, right?" Josh asked, peering at Ryan, who had involuntarily cringed.

"I go by Ryan."

"Oh, sorry. My bad," Josh said sheepishly before consulting his list. "Sometimes we do get years when we receive an odd-number of first-years for the house. We currently don't have a spare room but you're going to have to share with someone from your year."

"Okay?"

"So, it says here on this list," Josh continued, showing Ryan the slightly crinkled piece of paper in his hand, "that you're gonna be staying in Number 19." He gestured down the corridor where the boys' dorms were located. "It should be on your left hand side."

"Thank you." Ryan went to look for his room. He stopped at tenth door to his left bearing the number  _19_  in bronze. He wasn't sure if anyone was inside - there as should be but Ryan didn't want to burst in - so he raised his hand and knocked. Once. Twice.

There was a shuffling noise from inside, followed by a thud and someone swearing under their breath. "Come in!" the person called so Ryan opened the door and entered.

Apparently the person inside was none other than the ignoramus named Brendon Urie.

Ryan stood there by the door, staring open-mouth with incredulity at the boy who now sported hair dripping with water and a towel wrapped around his waist.

Brendon went red in the face and glanced down at himself. "I'm sorry but is this indecent?" he asked worriedly. "I was in the shower and --" he broke off when Ryan left the room abruptly then entered the room again. "Wait, are you my new roommate?"

"So they didn't tell you?" Ryan asked dryly. He went to his trunk that sat beside an empty bed. Though he did his best to ignore it, he could feel the weight of Brendon's gaze on his back as he opened his trunk. "Why don't you go back to your shower instead of staring at me?" he sighed in exasperation, flashing a glare over his shoulder. Brendon drew his eyes away, muttering an apology before scurrying to the bathroom. Once Ryan heard the door click shut, he sat on his bed wearily and took in the sight of the room he would have to share with Brendon for the rest of his stay at Ilvermorny.

His half of the room was bare, right from the walls to the shelves, the desk and the nightstand. The other half of the room was what he'd describe as an explosion of colors. Dozens of posters - the Muggle kind as they didn't move - were stuck to the walls, all people whom Ryan had never heard of. There was a messy pile of clothes thrown on the bed, which had a brightly-patterned bedspread. The desk was littered with all sorts of books, stationery and even a disfigured-looking hedgehog paperweight.

How a person could make such a mess in a short amount of time Ryan had no idea. In fact, he found himself disgusted with the notion he might have to see this everyday. He made a mental note to ask Brendon to organize everything while he unpacked his own belongings. Just to make an example of neatness, Ryan made sure to put his things in order - folding his clothes and placing them in the drawer under his bed, arranging his books on the shelves and placing his stationery in what he felt were proper places.

But when Brendon emerged from the bathroom Ryan lost his determination to give the boy a piece of his mind - he was tired from putting so much effort in organizing things. Even his work went unnoticed as Brendon continued to make a larger mess of his clothes by dumping one by one in the drawer. It was then when Ryan decided Brendon was probably a lost cause.

They didn't speak much that night, even though Brendon tried to get Ryan to talk by blabbing about how great this place was. The whole speech was tuned out by Ryan, who simply laid down on his bed and faced the wall until Brendon realized he wasn't listening. Thinking Ryan was asleep, Brendon lit a tiny candle which he claimed was made by the Pukwudgies - the school's groundkeepers and house guardians - for students so they could sleep better on their first night at Ilvermorny. While it sounded like a thoughtful idea to Ryan at first, it proved to do more harm than good.

Ryan's nightmares had become more intense. They had been difficult to wake up from but this time it was almost impossible to tell himself it was all a dream and if he could just open his eyes he'd be alright, apart from the uncomfortable stickiness of cold sweat and nausea. Terror after terror, all depicting The Woman assaulting him in many different ways, crashed onto him like unforgiving waves of a stormy sea. It was like waking from a terrible dream only to find out you were in another terrible dream.

When he did manage to wake up, he found out he had not only broken out in sweat, dampening his clothes and pillow, but that he also awoke sobbing. Wiping his tears away with his shirtsleeves, he kicked the blankets to the floor in a heap and rolled out of bed. If there was a spell to dry his sheets there and then, he didn't know. So he went to the bathroom. He was washing his face furiously before he was greeted with the sight of his ruddy, tear-stained face and tired eyes.

He hated it.

He hated seeing himself like this every time he woke up from his nightmares, as though sleep had taken away years off his life.

Why couldn't he go back to normal and live his life as though the assault had never happened?

Why did he have to suffer every night only to drag himself through the next day in an exhausted state?

Ryan drew his eyes away from his hated reflection, wiping his face with his towel. He returned to bed, not wanting to stay in that bathroom and continue to loathe himself but that meant he had to lay on the still-damp sheets. He ignored the nagging thought that he was resting on sweat-ridden cloth and tried to focus on something else, something positive.

He thought of Jimmy and Lindsey, wondering how their school year started off. Who did they sit with on the Hogwarts Express? What stories did they exchange with one another? Had Jimmy finally acquired a Hermione Granger card? Was the Hogwarts Sorting interesting or dull? Perhaps he ought to write to them tomorrow - not tonight as Brendon was asleep and there was no point turning on the lights and waking the boy up.

So Ryan laid there in bed, straining his ears to find any noise that could lull him to sleep  - except for Brendon snoring softly from the other side of the room. It took a long time before he finally fell asleep again.

▬▬▬

The next morning was taken up by orientation. Jamia and Josh gave the new Pukwudgies a tour of the castle grounds, informing them of which parts of it was dedicated to what subject and other interesting bits like where the other houses' common rooms were located and the best places to hang out. Ryan had to admit orientation was quite informative and better than what Hogwarts had to offer, which was none - students either had to rely on directions given by older students or refer to classroom maps.

By the time it was lunch, all the younger students were allowed to do whatever they wanted for the rest of the day. Ryan was making his way to the Dining Hall when he was waylaid by the boy he'd been looking out for since last night. "Hey, Bristolian kid!" Ryan stopped to see B jogging up to him, wearing that amiable grin of his. The older boy wasn't wearing his robes, only the shirt and pants, and this short ponytail that swished with every step. "Sorry, I didn't quite catch your name during Sorting," B said.

Ryan's heart did this funny thing where it was began to thump hard against his chest. "It's Ryan," he corrected. "And I didn't catch your name either."

"William." The brunet said. "But since there's a Pukwudgie named William - the caretaker, not the student - I go by Bill. Or Billy."

"I'll go with Will, if that's okay," Ryan ventured. "But you don't go by B?"

Will arched his eyebrows before he laughed, tucking back a strand of brown hair that fell loose from behind his ear. "No, that's what Vicky calls me," he explained and Ryan remembered the girl from the bookstore. "She thinks it's cool," Will added though his tone was fond. Then, he regarded Ryan for a few moments before saying, "So how was orientation?"

Ryan shrugged and mumbled something along the lines that orientation was fine. His stomach began to grumble loudly, causing him embarrassment, when Will suggested they go to the Dining Hall together. Ryan's face heated as he stared at Will incredulously. "What? Really?" His voice had gone higher than usual.

"Well, you are hungry, aren't you?" Will began to walk.

"Aren't we supposed to sit at our own house tables?"

"Well, only for dinner. Didn't you have breakfast?"

Ryan kept silent, drawing his eyes away from Will's. He didn't eat this morning as he had no appetite for food; he didn't even go down to the Dining Hall. "Er, what's today's menu?" he asked, trying to draw the topic of conversation away so Will wouldn't ask him any questions he'd have to lie to answer.

"Um, you can have whatever you want to eat breakfast and lunch." Will was giving him that funny look again. Fortunately before he could say anything, they entered the Dining Hall and was called to join a table with a group of older students. Ryan's stomach tightened, his footsteps faltering as apprehension and doubt surfaced within him. He didn't know who they were but Will seemed to because he laughed and called to them too.

"Oh, these people are my friends," Will told Ryan as though the younger boy hadn't already noticed. "Don't worry, they won't bite," he added, seeing hesitation appear on Ryan's features.

"Are they all in Thunderbird like you?" Ryan asked cautiously.

"Not all of them." That was all Will said before they joined his friends. Watching Will interact with those from his circle, Ryan felt like an outsider; there had been a few attempts by Will and his friends to make him feel welcome among them but no matter what they did, Ryan felt distinctly set apart from them. He kept to himself while everyone conversed with one another, nibbling without much appetite at some pizza.

Just as he was thinking of slipping away from Will's group, one of them - Vicky, if Ryan wasn't mistaken - turned her head to him then looked at Will with a coy smile. "So, what's the deal with the new kid?"

Ryan's cheeks burned. "I'm here, if you didn't notice," he mumbled.

"I was only being nice to him," Will said plainly but there was an undertone Ryan couldn't immediately identify. "Besides, he's a transfer student. It's probably more difficult for him compared to being a first-year." He clapped a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "I mean, look at him. Tell me you don't want to help him out on his first day here."

"I thought it was up to the Pukwudgies to look after him," said a boy with impish features. "He is one of theirs, after all."

"Can't I be nice?" Will retorted.

"Oh, you're  _always_  nice," Vicky sighed, "but not  _this_  nice." A frown began to crease Ryan's forehead as he pondered over what she meant when Will rolled his eyes at Vicky.

"Thank you for letting me sit with all of you but I really have to get going," Ryan said as he rose from the table. There were a few protests, asking him to stay but none of them stopped him from leaving. However just as he was about to step out of the Dining Hall, Will joined him on his way out. This gesture surprised Ryan, to the point that it caused his heart to flutter and his cheeks to flush.

"Don't sweat it," Will dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Are you heading back to your dorm?"

Not wanting to sound predictable, Ryan's brain threw the first place it thought to his mouth. "The library," he blurted. "I was thinking of catching up with things I have to study."

"What?" Will arched his eyebrows the same time the corners of his mouth curled upwards. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "You're not hoping to find the Monster Book of Monsters, are you?" His teasing tone succeeded in coaxing a laugh out of Ryan; it made William's grin grow broader. "I knew it."

"I wasn't." Ryan didn't think it was possible for someone he knew so little of to be able to make him smile with just a comment, and make him feel at ease. He couldn't explain it but Will's easygoing and lighthearted attitude was growing on him in a way he didn't think was possible.

His mood for the rest of the day was lifted after spending time in the library with Will. As it turned out, Ryan and Will got to know each other better and the ostensible intention of 'catching up with things to study' was forgotten as they talked. Ryan found out that Will was from Chicago, loved songwriting, and was a year above Ryan. Will learned of Ryan's house in Hogwarts, how Ryan had an appetite for sweet things, and used to own a Pygmy Puff named Dottie. Those were just some of the many things and Ryan didn't realize how time had passed by until the evening bell rang.

Him and Will parted ways but he got to catch a smile and a wave from the older boy when he walked into the Dining Hall and sat with his housemates.

"Who is that guy?" Brendon craned his head to see when he noticed Ryan grinning in Will's direction. There was a slight frown on his face.

"None of your business, Urie." The rest of dinner Ryan made sure not to look in Will's direction although he did sneak a few glances that went unnoticed. At least, that was what Ryan thought.


	11. the walls he puts around himself

Ryan kept the letters he received in his desk drawer and sighed. He rubbed his heavy eyelids, forcing them to stay open. It was nearly dawn and he had been awake for an hour or so as he had woken up from yet another nightmare and could no longer fall back asleep for now. He had sat at his desk, intending to revise for an Astronomy quiz on Monday but his mind couldn't be forced into cramming knowledge so he ended up reading the letters he received yesterday at breakfast.

Nearly a month had passed since Ryan first crossed the threshold of this school. The American syllabus was similar to the British one, except for History of Magic, Charms and Herbalism. It didn't pose him much of a challenge to understand lessons although for the topics that weren't taught in Hogwarts were a bit difficult to swallow, especially on days when he woke up exhausted from all the bad dreams he had the night before. But he was managing with the workload, sometimes with the help of Will or Puck.

On the subject of friends, Ryan hadn't made much progress getting to know people. He often lacked interest in taking the time to talk to others and socialize with them, preferring to either observe them or leave - that was why he recognized faces more than names. Only a few students stood out in his brain like Patrick and Frank of Pukwudgie; Dallon of Horned Serpent; Hayley from Wampus; and Breezy and Sarah of Thunderbird. Half of them were because he had to partner up with them during classes while the rest were because they had shown exceptional performance in certain subjects - it was due to Ryan's innate competitiveness to be as good as they were, if not better.

The castle also seemed to be slightly smaller than he had initially thought it'd be, owing to him growing more familiar with the layout of certain floors. The place was starting to grow on him, so to speak. He even managed to find a spot in the woods just a little off the greenhouses where Ryan sometimes hung out by himself to escape from people. He was thinking of going there later to avoid being pressured by his housemates to join them in the usual interhouse sports friendlies.

A noise broke Ryan out of his thoughts and he swivelled his head around. As far as he was concerned, no one else was awake at this hour except for Puck the Pukwudgie (that was the creature who helped Ryan on the first day) who was either up all night patrolling the grounds or watching reruns of last season's hockey games. Brendon was fast asleep in his bed, snoring softly and occasionally muttering things like, "Spencer, my oats," or something equally strange.

After putting his letters back in his drawers Ryan closed it carefully so not to make any noise. He tiptoed into bed and laid on his back, drawing the covers up to his chin. He didn't move, not wanting to give away any signs of his wakefulness to Brendon, who'd be waking up soon for his morning jog with his friends, the ones Brendon tried to make Ryan get acquainted with. Soon enough, Ryan could make out the noises of sheets shifting, followed by a yawn. In the soft light of dawn filtering through the sheer curtains, Ryan saw the silhouette of his roommate getting out of bed through the narrow slits of his eyes.

Brendon got up, sluggishly as he always did, and shuffled his way to the bathroom. He emerged from it later, wearing his workout clothes and left the room quietly. As soon as Ryan heard the door click shut, he exhaled and sat up. There was always that sense of relief that washed over him every time Brendon left his presence; he didn't like Brendon much and would rather prefer to be alone or be in the company of someone else, which Brendon didn't seem to understand.

Perhaps if he'd been less pushy about getting Ryan settled into Ilvermorny and less inclined to react excitedly whenever Ryan did anything that was considered to be stereotypical of Brits, Ryan would probably dislike him less.

Ryan got out of bed later to freshen up and get ready for his time alone later. Taking out his backpack, he packed two textbooks, some papers, pens, snacks and a flask of herbal tea brewed by Puck to help him focus. After that, he went down to breakfast.

▬▬▬

"Have you seen Ryan?"

"Uh, last I saw him, he was sneaking off to the woods past the greenhouses."

"Was he with anyone?"

"Nah." There was a pause. "Kid, if you're so worried for him, why don't you follow him or something?"

"N-No way! I'm starting to think he --"

▬▬▬

It was chilly that day so Ryan's little trip to his hiding spot in the woods was cut short as he forgot to bring a jacket along to keep him warm. Not only that, today was particularly windy and the pages of his books kept flapping around and pulling him out of focus. He headed for the Pukwudgie common room, muttering "Monkshood," under his breath as he opened the tool shed door and entering the common room.

There weren't many people at this hour, only a handful of students. Helping Puck - that was the Pukwudgie creature who had helped Ryan on the first day - to sort herbs he had gathered was none other than Brendon. Ryan's face immediately formed a frown, partially out of habit but mostly because Brendon had been whispering something to Puck when he realized Ryan was there and broke off from whatever he was saying. His behavior both made Ryan annoyed and suspicious.

What's to say if Brendon had been speaking ill of Ryan behind his back? Not that Ryan cared too much as he had heard one or two nasty things from his Slytherin roommates back when he had been grieving his mother's death but if Brendon was saying anything bad about him, he made a mental note to ask Puck about it later.

Puck, who had been squinting at one of the labeled jars, looked up to see Ryan glaring in his general direction. Arching his eyebrows, Puck said, "Want some herbal tea?" It was his general way of greeting anyone in a foul mood.

Ryan shook his head, leveling his gaze with Brendon, who was now more interested in reading the side effects of one of Puck's jars. Immediately, he recognized what that jar contained so he proceeded to say, "Puck, do you still have any of that powder that helps with concentration? I finished mine last night."

"You mean the ashwagandha mix I gave you the other day? Of course." Puck turned to Brendon and held out his hand. "If you please?" Brendon went bright red in the face as he passed Puck the jar. Then, he muttered some excuse and got up to leave the common room in a haste. Ryan waited until he was gone before handing Puck an empty vial from his backpack. The Pukwudgie didn't speak until the vial was filled.

Just as Puck opened his mouth, holding up the vial, Ryan said, "Yes, I know the necessary precautions. Don't take it with sleeping draughts, or laxatives and --"

"That's not what I was going to say." Puck drew his hand away then patted the spot beside him, inviting Ryan to sit.

Ryan made an irritated noise. "Puck, I don't have time --"

"Surely, parking your bum on the floor next to me ain't gonna kill you?" Puck retorted. "Besides, I just wanted to talk with you for a bit. No harm in that, eh?"

Ryan hesitated, then sat down across Puck, tight-lipped with impatience. He watched as Puck replaced the jar back on the shelf at a leisurely pace before returning his attention back to the boy.

Ryan had always thought Pukwudgies to be ugly and thought they were a bit evil, but their appearances didn't accurately reflect their natures. While they could be haughty, impatient or rude, they cared a lot for the students and would often go out of their way to help them along. Ryan didn't need their help, at least not now. Besides, he had never approached Puck for anything, perhaps only tea to help him ward off exhaustion from the lack of sleep or concentration boosters.

"How has school been going for you?" Puck inquired.

Ryan had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Fine." His eyes drifted to Puck's hand that was turning the vial around. Impatience snapped at him but determination not to be rude to the Pukwudgie forced his tone to remain neutral. "I'm not struggling with studies or anything."

The corner of Puck's mouth twitched, allowing the tip of a fang to poke out from beneath his upper lip. "Not studies, kid. I know you're smart - I can tell. I meant friends." This was where Ryan began to feel uncomfortable as he hadn't any idea how to explain himself.

He hadn't been very social lately, keeping to himself at most times. Part of the reason why he was acting like so was because he was sick of people coming up to him at unnecessary times trying to befriend him as he was a new student. It wasn't that he didn't want to give them a chance, but it was because he was afraid of what they'd think of him when he opened up to them.

And then there was studies, which he had been throwing himself into lately. He'd mentally mark those who showed impressive performances in each subjects, setting their scores as benchmarks for him so he could be on par with them, if not be better. The reason why he'd been like this was because there was a thirst to prove something to himself, to prove that he wasn't incompetent.

Ryan raised his gaze to Puck and said, "I don't need friends." Realizing he'd been too curt with his response, he amended, "I don't think I have time for them. And I don't think they'd like me much." At the last sentence, Puck's expression molded into surprise.

"Why not?"

"Because ..." Ryan faltered. "Why do you want me to explain anyway? You've seen what I'm like." He scowled. "I'm usually in a foul mood. I keep to myself, so I bet people think I'm either socially incompetent or a snob. I'm impatient and judgmental too, which can make me rude sometimes. I --" He opened his mouth to say more when he was aware that there was a pounding ache in his chest and a stinging sensation on the backs of his eyes. He blinked furiously, lips folded together. "They'd only treat me like how some of my old housemates did. I'd only scare them away."

Puck regarded Ryan with an unreadable expression. Then he extended his clawed hand and rested it on Ryan's head. He didn't say anything, only watching as Ryan wiped his eyes furiously. "I'm not saying you should try to make everyone like you, no, that's the fastest way to hurt yourself," Puck said. "I'm just looking out for you." He held out the vial to Ryan. "You're not alone, y'know?"

Eyes drifting towards Puck's concerned expression, the dull throb in Ryan's chest grew noticeable to him. He opened his mouth as though he wanted to argue then shut it, cheeks turning red. He took the vial out of Puck's hand and got up. "You don't need to look out for me," he said and turned to leave. Hurrying down the corridor of the boys' dorm, he wiped his face furiously before twisting the doorknob of his dorm. He entered the room, closing the door behind him audibly.

Tossing his bag unceremoniously to a corner, he collapsed on his bed with his hands over his eyes. He was telling himself that he shouldn't cry, that there was no use spilling tears over something he considered trivial. So what if people didn't like him? It wasn't new anyway - his last semester at Hogwarts had been a proof of that. But then again he hadn't been affected much by the fact as he had Jimmy and Lindsey. Now he didn't.

Tiny sobs were slipping past his mouth as tears found their way down his cheeks to his pillowcase. His chest hurt with the ache of wanting everything to go back to the way it was, or rather the way he wanted - both of his parents together, his two best friends by his side, and him unmarked by any sort of unhappiness that had burdened him from his childhood.

 _How pathetic_ , said that cold, detached voice in his head as he pulled himself to a sitting position, trying to stop himself from sobbing.  _Crying all by yourself_ _in_ _your room instead of brushing it off. Weak. Weak. Weak_.

Something rested on Ryan's shoulder, a hand, pulling him out from his thoughts. Immediately, he snapped, " _Don't touch_ _me_ ," and whipped out his hand. There was the sudden sound of a violent collision, followed by a yelp; his hand began to sting from the impact. Ryan's head whipped around and his heart stopped.

Hand placed on the cheek where he had struck, Brendon stared at him, open-mouthed. Silence lay thick in the air as the two boys regarded each other, struck speechless by shock and disbelief. And then panic set in Ryan's chest, kicking up the pace of his heartbeat. He hadn't meant to slap Brendon in the first place - he didn't even know it was Brendon. He had only meant to push the person away but he'd been upset enough to check the way he swung his hand.

Ryan swallowed thickly though his mouth felt like it was filled with sawdust. "I --"

"I know it's stupid for me to say this --", the shock had disappeared from Brendon's expression, "-- I came to see if you were okay." There was no sign of anger in his tone, only concern. He was handling this situation way better than Ryan would have thought he would.

Ryan stared at Brendon, unable to speak once more. His gaze rested on Brendon's face where the skin was starting to turn an angry shade of red. He tried to string the jumble of words in his mind in a coherent sentence but only breaths escaped past his lips.

Exhaling, Brendon shook his head and straightened up. The red was growing more noticeable. He blinked hard, and his mouth folded into a thin line. "Yeah ..." he drawled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck. He wasn't looking at Ryan anymore. "I'm sorry if I was barging in or anything," he added then hurried out of the room.

The door closed, leaving Ryan staring at it. "It should be me. I'm sorry."

▬▬▬

"Oats again?" Will asked, eyeing Ryan's breakfast thoughtfully. "You like eating these for breakfast, don't you?

Distractedly, Ryan nodded before turning his attention back to his bowl. "It's what I usually have for breakfast at Hogwarts," he explained and looked back at the table reserved for Pukwudgies at dinner; currently, there was a mix of students from all houses sitting there, chatting noisily over their food. Ryan was keeping his eye out for Brendon. Though he didn't care much for Brendon most times, he was afraid he offended the boy because Brendon didn't return to their room since Ryan slapped him. Of course, Ryan tried asking Puck for Brendon's whereabouts but Puck shook his head and ignored him, which pissed Ryan off.

Sick with worry and heavy guilt, Ryan had barely worked up an appetite to eat dinner and now he didn't feel like eating his breakfast. Chasing a chunk of strawberry around his oats, he kept a watchful eye on the door, where a trickle of students were coming in. Sure enough, Brendon appeared, accompanied by an older boy whom Ryan recognized as Spencer from Wampus. Brendon didn't spot Ryan as he marched towards one of the tables but Ryan had a feeling he was ignoring Ryan.

Spencer, on the other hand, had searched the hall before his bold gaze met Ryan's. Immediately, his face twisted into a contemptuous scowl - it made Ryan want to Transfigure into a mouse - then joined Brendon at the table.

"Did you see that?" said Sisky, the wavy-haired boy who was in the same year as well as house with Will. "Smith just glared at you."

 _No, it's me he's looking at_. Ryan's stomach did an uneasy flip. He didn't have any problems with Will's friends but he didn't quite like Sisky in particular. Sisky gave him the impression of a troublemaker, and not that of a humorous sort. Ryan cut a glance to Will, who appeared more interested in having a bit of Vicky's bacon.

"Really?" Will said though he sounded uninterested. "Well, the love of my life also known as food was tempting me to look --"

"That was my bacon, B," Vicky sighed in annoyance.

"Besides, I don't remember offending him or anything," Will added. "Why would he be mad at me?"

Sisky let a derisive laugh. "You must've said something that he didn't agree with." There he went, goading Will. "For all you know, he might be waiting to clock you out later in Potions. You know what Wampuses are like. Always solving things with their fists like No-Majs and picking fights --"

"If I recall correctly," Will interrupted Sisky, "I think he punched you in our second year because you called someone by a rude name." It was satisfying to see Sisky flush red with embarrassment. "To be honest, anyone would've jinxed you but doing it the No-Maj way is more satisfying."

Sisky opened and closed his mouth like a fish before he went back to munching furiously away at his cereal.

After breakfast, Ryan found it difficult to approach Brendon. The boy was always with his friends Ryan would rather wait until he was alone to apologize, which was proving to be difficult. The one sliver of a chance he had was when everyone was putting away the extra apparatus needed for Potions; Brendon was cleaning his station at that time and Ryan had strode towards it only to turn away at the last moment when Brendon's partner, Dallon, returned.

However when the afternoon arrived and it was time for Defense Against The Dark Arts, Ryan got his chance.

"Boggarts," Professor Kessler announced and the silence of the class was broken by whispers amongst students. "Now, I believe we're all well versed with the theory of fighting these monsters so the next logical step would be to face them. For real." Another wave of whispers followed.

" _My brother told me his_ _Boggart_ _turned into a balloon that popped repeatedly._ "

" _I_ _bet_ _mine_ _would_ _probably_ _be_ _that_ _girl_ _from_ _The_ _Ring_ _._ "

Ryan had faced a Boggart last year for his D.A.D.A class last year so he told himself it'd be the same - a gigantic rat with a snake for a tongue. However, the tiniest shred of unease wormed its way into his mind and he remembered the state his mother had been in when she was dying, and The Woman.  _Don't be ridiculous_ , he snapped inwardly.  _The incantation is_ _Riddikulus_ _and just laugh at the stupid_ _Boggart_.

Ryan made himself focus on Professor Kessler in front, who was explaining that he managed to find a Boggart hidden in a dark corner of his office and trapped it in a chest. "Now if everyone could push the tables and chairs to the sides of the room and line up while I grab the chest," he told the class. Immediately, everyone got to their feet and began to do as they were told, casting  _Locomotor_  charms to lift and push objects around the room.

A few of the mischievous students tried the charms on random objects, even the wastepaper bin. "Same," said Sarah from Thunderbird, who was observing two bins crashing into each other, sending paper flying.

"Shut up, Orzechowski, you are a fucking queen," Breezy, Sarah's friend, called out.

Just then, there was the sound of wood splintering when a hush fell over the class. Everyone was staring at Frank and Joe. "He did it," the both of them chorused, pointing at each other while a shattered table lay in ruins by their feet.

"Repair that," Professor Kessler ordered when he returned to the class with a great wooden chest following after him. The class crowded around to catch a glimpse of the chest before they were told to line up. The teacher took at least five minutes to refresh everyone on their knowledge of the Boggart, asking questions and giving House points to those who answered correctly.

Afterwards, everyone was given a turn to have a go at the Boggart. It turned into many things, from a large spider to tall and slender beings, and was countered with the Boggart-Banishing charm and raucous laughter.

As Ryan's turn grew nearer and nearer, the miniscule shred of unease had grown in size. Every muscle in his body felt bunched up and tense and his heart was pounding loudly against his ribcage. Keeping his fists balled up at the sides to stop them from shaking, he forced himself to recall the important points about Boggarts to stop him from remembering scenes from his nightmares.

_A_ _Boggart_ _can_ _shapeshift_ _into whatever you fear most, however no one knows what it actually looks like. They are commonly found in dark corners --_

"Ross, give it a go!" Professor Kessler called out encouragingly when it was Ryan's turn.

Stiffly, Ryan drew his wand from his robes and pointed it at the Boggart, who had taken form of a tall emaciated humanoid creature with antlers. The tip of his wand was shaking. Sensing a new person, the Boggart turned its head towards Ryan.

 _Gigantic rat_ , he thought.  _It has to be gigantic rat_.

The Boggart's form began to contort and shift at once, taking a peek into Ryan's mind and choosing the worst fear to physically manifest into. All of a sudden it shrank and that was where Ryan was hit with a wave of wrongness. Dark wisps encircled the figure, swirling fast, before they dissipated and revealed the Boggart in the form of the Woman holding Danielle in a headlock with a wand pointed to his mother's temple.

It was like Ryan's heart had stopped beating. All the noise around him faded into a blur. Sweat broke out on his nape. His vision tunnelled, locking on the Woman.

 _It's just a_ _Boggart_ _. It won't hurt you. Not too much_. Ryan's hand was shaking violently now. His voice was failing him so all he could do was mouth  _Riddikulus_  helplessly; the spell could not be casted without a clear incantation.

She was grinning maliciously, saying threats he couldn't hear over the sudden ringing in his ears. Throwing Danielle to the ground, the Woman advanced with her wand pointed at Ryan. As he couldn't bring himself to speak, Ryan was only crushed by fear and hopelessness as the Woman's lips moved to say the spell she had used on him before.

Out of the corner of Ryan's eye, a figure darted and stood before him, crying out, " _Riddikulus_ _!_ " Before anyone could respond, the Boggart turned into people dancing in an embarrassing manner. Ryan didn't have time to recognize who it was, only time to realize his vision to go black.

▬▬▬

"Do you think he'll be okay?"

"Last I checked he fainted so obviously he's gonna wake up."

"When?"

"He can wake up now if you could grab of bucket of cold water."

"Oh, fuck off."

▬▬▬

When Ryan came to, he hadn't expected to see Brendon waiting for him. In fact, it came as a shock to him when he had opened his eyes, rolled to his side and saw Brendon seated in a chair next to the bed. Making a startled sound, Ryan nearly fell off the bed.

Awakened by the noise, Brendon sat up abruptly in his seat, looking shocked when he noticed Ryan smoothing down the sheets hastily. "Oh, you're awake," he said. There was a hint of relief in his tone.

Ryan regarded him warily before rubbing his eyes. "Where am I?"

"The infirmary. I offered to help Professor Kessler to bring you here but Dallon helped too. But, uh, Dallon left already so ..." Brendon trailed off. "You kinda fainted after - well, I guess you know what happened before you blacked out," he added nervously. When Ryan didn't respond, he drew his chair closer to the bed and asked, "How are you feeling?"

"What time is it?"

"Huh?"

"The time, Urie."

"Oh." Hurriedly, Brendon checked his watch. "Uhh, six forty-two. Dinner should be over in awhile." Just as he finished his sentence, there was a loud growl. He let out a soft laugh, the corners of his mouth curving upwards; Ryan didn't know why he was amused that Ryan was hungry. "I managed to grab some bread from the kitchen earlier. I thought --" The look on Ryan's face caused Brendon to falter with his words.

All Ryan could notice of Brendon was that bruise on his cheekbone. A wave of guilt washed over him, followed by confusion then exasperation. "Why are you so nice to me?" he demanded. "I'm not your friend."

"You are."

" _I'm not_. I don't know much about you. I hardly talk to you. I'm always annoyed by you. I slapped you. Just because I sleep in the same room as you doesn't make me your friend." Ryan sighed and shook his head. "Listen, Urie, I really hate owing people things, okay? I appreciate that you're looking out for me and all but I'll tell you the same thing I've told Puck. You don't need to look out for me.

"And I want to say I'm sorry for slapping you. I ... I didn't mean to do that. But please, don't touch me when I'm crying or whatever." Ryan got himself out of bed and looked for his shoes. Once he put them on, he drew back the curtain that covered the view of him from the infirmary.

"Wait."

Ryan stopped.

"Y'know, if you wanna cry or anything, you don't have to worry about doing it around me. I ... I'll try my best to make you feel better." The hopefulness in Brendon's words made Ryan feel an ache in his chest, knowing that he couldn't ever repay Brendon for his kindness.

A mirthless smile twisted on Ryan's lips. "You don't need to look out for me, Urie."


	12. quidditch is still better than quodpot

"Quodpot?" Ryan echoed in confusion, staring at Will who had his hands clasped together in a pleading gesture. "You want me to attend the Quodpot tryouts?" He had never expressed any interest in the American variation of Quidditch so one could imagine his surprise when Will brought it up on a drizzly October afternoon.

Will flushed red and shrugged, propping up his book and hiding the lower half of his face in what appeared to be mild embarrassment. "I know it's a bit silly since you obviously love Quidditch more --"

"It's a shame Ilvermorny doesn't play it," Ryan lamented under his breath as he scribbled his working on a used sheet of paper while doing his Arithmancy homework.

"-- but there was a change in captains for the houses so it'd be pretty great if you could come and support me." Will pressed his lips together.

Ryan set his pen down and considered Will's proposition. "Wouldn't it be ... a bit treacherous for someone outside of Thunderbird to be cheering for them instead of their own house?" he questioned as all he could think of were those die-hard Quodpot fans from Pukwudgie who got very upset when he said he didn't enjoy the concept of the sport.

Will grinned. Ryan admired how he could smile so easily, showing off genuine amusement whereas Ryan barely smiled these days unless he was around Will but even then he usually maintained a serious expression. "I'm very glad you asked that," Will said, snapping his fingers, "but the tryouts for each house are on different days and it's fine for anyone to come and watch. Besides, some other teams sometimes volunteer to help out."

Though Will's explanation was reasoable enough for Ryan to consider going, there was a matter he had to express for the sake of expressing. "I don't like the part where the Quod explodes. I think it's dangerous," he opined.

Will arched his eyebrows. "Yeah, but does Quidditch have half-time breaks?"

Ryan laughed. "Is that seriously the point of argument you're going to bring up?"

"Yes and I think it's perfectly valid. Players need to take breaks otherwise they might keel over from exhaustion and then the games might become anticlimactic"

Ryan ducked his head to hide his smile from Will. He quite liked days like this when he got to hang out Will in the library together, away from the company of Will's friends. He didn't mind a crowd but he preferred to be alone with Will. It was more meaningful to him to be able to spend time like that. What Ryan liked was listening to Will talk, observe the way his eyes would gleam when he approached a topic he loved or when he explained things to Ryan in a gentle and patient manner.

They left the library later to return to their respective common rooms to get ready for dinner, but not before Will playfully reminded him to attend the Thunderbird team's tryouts on Sunday. As usual, Ryan was in good spirits after hanging out with Will when he went back to the Pukwudgie common room. Though it was only the first week of October, the Pukwudgies had thrown themselves into giving it a Halloween kind of mood.

"It's never too early to get into the spooky mood," Josh had said when he was bewitching some of the knick-knacks yesterday.

Ryan passed by Patrick, who was being taught by Jamia to play a guitar while Frank and a few of his housemates were playing a game of hacky-sack. There was also group of students sitting in a circle by the fireplace quizzing one another on their academic knowledge.

Ryan made his way to the dorm, wanting to get changed out of his robes, but hardly was he prepared to enter the room and find that he wasn't alone. Though it was hardly anything to be surprised about being in a room the same time as Brendon was, it was not a common thing to find Brendon with a guest over, particularly someone from outside the house. Though it was technically against the rules to do that, some students didn't bother adhering to the rule.

"Hey Ryan," Brendon greeted, sitting up straight when he saw Ryan enter. All traces of seriousness on his face had wiped away although one could tell that smile on his face was fake. Beside him sat a sour-faced Spencer, who had his arms folded across his chest. Brendon noticed Ryan and Spencer looking at each other so he proceeded to explain himself. "Spencer came over because we needed to talk about ... something."

All Ryan knew of Spencer was that he was a fifth-year Wampus, who wore a seemingly perpetual scowl that bore into one's being when one crossed his line of sight. He didn't look like a friendly person and it was a bit strange how Brendon, as annoyingly affable as he was, could befriend a person like Spencer.

"You could just take it outside or something." Though his tone wasn't unkind, it gave both Brendon and Spencer the impression that Ryan wasn't delighted with the guest.

Spencer narrowed his eyes at Ryan, his scowl deepening. "You're right," he said but it sounded sarcastic. "I should go. Besides, it's almost dinner and we all have to get ready for it." Standing up from the chair he was seated in, he passed by Ryan on the way to the door but not before he threw Ryan a dirty look, then left.

This gesture didn't bode well with Ryan, who took offense, so he decided to give Brendon a piece of his mind about Spencer. "What's with him?" Ryan questioned, putting his backpack on the floor beside his desk and turning to face Brendon.

"What?"

"That Smith kid."

Brendon made a dismissive noise like his matter was trivial although Ryan wasn't convinced. "We just talked, that's all."

"I don't like him," Ryan stated.

It was the first time Ryan had ever seen Brendon frown at him. "What? Because he's a Wampus?" Like Hogwarts, there were rivalries between Ilvermorny houses (Horned Serpent and Thunderbird, Pukwudgie and Wampus) but they weren't as aggressive and competitive as their Hogwarts counterparts.

"It's not that." Ryan's face flushed. "He's always scowling in my direction as if I owe him Galleons - sorry - Dragots or I've said something bad about his mum."

The frown disappeared from Brendon's face followed by the strangest expression. "Oh, really? I never noticed."

It was Ryan's turn to frown now. He could tell that statement was a lie. "Well, now that you know, I expect you'll tell him it's very rude to go around looking at everyone like that, mind."

Brendon looked faintly embarrassed but he didn't comment on Ryan's request. Instead, he sat on his bed and watched Ryan unpack his books. There was a thoughtful expression resting on Brendon's face. "Um, so I know Quodpot isn't a thing in Britain," he began, and Ryan knew where this conversation was going. "So I --"

Ryan's response was immediate, like a knee-jerk reflex. "No."

Brendon's eyes widened. "But you haven't heard the rest of what I wanted to say!"

"I don't fancy Quodpot," Ryan said as he drew his wand in case Brendon turned out to be like one of those die-hard fans, "and I have no intention of trying out for the team."

Thankfully Brendon didn't jump to his feet and yell angrily at him for not liking the sport. Instead, a look of disappointment crossed Brendon's features. "Oh. Well, I guess that's okay then. But Puck told me you were a good Chaser when you played for the Slytherin Quidditch team."

Ryan tensed; he hadn't expected Puck to give away that bit of information about himself, especially not to Brendon. He sighed in exasperation. "Yes, I may be good with passing the Quaffle around but I don't think it's safe to toss around one that's been modified to explode."

"Yeah, but apparently getting hit in the head by Budgies in Quidditch is safer."

"It's  _Bludgers_."

"But could you at least give Quodpot a try?" Brendon pleaded but this conversation was getting old for Ryan. "Or if you're still hell-bent against not helping the house team, you could just attend the tryouts and support your housemates."

"Why do you want me to  _join_  so badly?" Ryan demanded.

Blood rushed into Brendon's cheeks, tinting them red. "Because I thought it'd be cool if we could be on the same team," he mumbled. Ryan stared at him, his expression caught between surprise and annoyance. He sighed once more and grabbed a spare change of clothes. However just before he was going to reach for a towel, Brendon added, "And I thought it might help take your mind off the bad dreams you have."

That was where Ryan's heart skipped. Though he had initially his worries that Brendon might hear him cry out at night from his nightmares, Brendon proved to be a heavy sleeper so his worries dissipated. But now that Brendon mentioned this, there was a sudden rush of apprehension and fear that he'd been discovered. Ryan's hand tightened around the towel he had grabbed. "Don't ever say that."

"What?"

"I don't  _have_  nightmares." It was a lie, though one for the intention of putting up a strong front. Ryan faced Brendon. He wasn't aware his body had been shaking the whole time he stared Brendon down. "And we've established this before, Urie. You don't need to look out for me." Before Brendon had time to reply, Ryan fled to the bathroom and stayed there for longer than he needed to.

Ryan had stood under the shower, staring at the white tiles blankly as Brendon's words echoed in his mind. Though he didn't want to admit it, he was afraid Brendon might think him to be someone delicate, who always needed help, though Ryan was convinced he didn't need anyone to worry for him. He hated being a burden to people, to everyone who had chose to care for him and to put up with him. He knew he couldn't always be the best person to them and he hated that. Hated the idea that maybe they hated him a little for who he was.

He stood in the shower longer than he needed to, sobbing quietly while water ran down his body. Later when he emerged from the bathroom, he kept his gaze carefully averted from Brendon's so that he wouldn't be questioned why his eyes were red - he could always lie about shampoo getting in his eyes but as he was too emotional to speak he'd rather not take his chances.

He didn't need one more person worrying about him.

▬▬▬

Gathering in the middle of the Quodpot pitch was a circle of students surrounding the new team captain for Pukwudgie, Jamia. They were all dressed in protective gear meant for the sport and armed with broomsticks. From where Ryan sat, he could tell they all seemed eager to make the cut for the team and there was a certain competitive air about the group when they all pumped fists and shouted, "Pukwudgie!"

Arms crossed, Ryan leaned back and watched them without much interest. He didn't know why he made the choice to be here in the first place when he could've easily said no to everyone who pestered him to come and watch. Perhaps it'd been Brendon this morning, when he woke up stony-faced which was unusual because he was always cheery in the morning. Ryan didn't know what made him care but when he watched Brendon put on his gear, he had said, "Fine, I'm going to the bloody tryouts.  _Happy?_ " The expression on Brendon's face after that brightened.

The tryouts took place on a chilly Saturday morning; they couldn't have it in the afternoon as extracurricular activities would take place at that time. Right now, those on the pitch were doing their warm-up session to some Muggle workout songs. Apparently, the Pukwudgies weren't the only ones in the stadium - a few students from outside the house were coming to watch them and Ryan recognized a few of them.

As there was nothing so far that had piqued his interest, Ryan took out his Herbalism notes and studied them. But before he could memorize some of the facts about Bowtruckles, a person appeared in his peripheral to his left. That person moved to sit beside him; it was only when Ryan turned his head he recognized the person to be Dallon Weekes. Gangly, but Dallon moved with surprising grace that one wouldn't have expected from someone with a body frame like his.

This was the boy Ryan had been keeping his eye on, or rather Dallon's academic performance. Dallon was one of the top students in the year but what caused Ryan to feel the need to be better than him was how Dallon wad easily the best student in Charms. Back in Hogwarts, Ryan had always came out on top in that subject and now that he wasn't, he felt the need to claim that position in Ilvermorny.

"Hey," Dallon said as though him and Ryan were good friends. He pushed back a stray strand of his dark hair that fell across his forehead, regarding Ryan with a friendly blue-eyed gaze. "Didn't expect to see you here."

Ryan frowned. "Why not?"

Dallon paused thoughtfully. "Well, because Brendon told me that you kinda hated Quodpot," he explained then pointed at Ryan's clothes, "and that you're wearing a Quidditch sweater, which kinda looks like a tiny protest against Quodpot."

Ryan looked down at himself then at Dallon, feeling slightly self-conscious. Sweater, Dallon had called it, but to Ryan it would always be a jumper. Even if it didn't fit him perfectly, as it was baggy and its sleeves fell past Ryan's knuckles, he loved this jumper to bits. Resisting the urge to cross his arms, he said, "This jumper was a parting gift from my old house. Also, I can wear what I want, can't I? It's Saturday - at least I'm not here starkers."

"Huh?"

"It means nude."

Dallon laughed. "Starkers. That's a funny word. I like that." He turned to look at the pitch below and waved at someone, probably Brendon. Then he looked back at Ryan, who was squinting to see who it was. "So, how about we move a bit closer to the front? You'll be able to see the tryouts better."

"No thanks." Ryan shook his head. "I was planning on leaving."

"Aw, what?" Dallon frowned, getting up the same time as Ryan did. "Where to?"

As Ryan wanted an excuse to leave, he said the first thing that came to mind. "The library," he answered then gestured at his books in hopes to convince Dallon. "I need to study."

"Huh?"

"Surely, you as a Horned Serpent would understand."

"We may be the house of thinkers, but we're definitely not  _that_  studious." Dallon pursed his lips.

"I need to study," Ryan repeated.

"You don't," Dallon said. When Ryan opened his mouth to argue he added, "Good grades is one thing but you need to look after yourself too to be able to do your best." He paused for a moment, trying to gauge how Ryan was feeling from the silence. "Okay, I'm not saying I'm stopping you but --"

A loud explosion drowned out the rest of his words. Startled, both Dallon and Ryan's heads whipped to see what happened down below on the pitch. Sitting in the middle of a large scorch mark on the grass was a kid looking both bewildered.

"Someone must've broken out the real Quod." Dallon chuckled, shaking his head. "They're not supposed to bring that out for tryouts though."

Against his earlier hastily-made decision, Ryan stayed to watch the tryouts proceed out of curiosity. He could see some of the students playing had the necessary skills but thought they'd be better off playing Quidditch than Quodpot. Apparently Brendon was trying out the Keeper position and he wasn't half bad except when he tried to deflect the Quod with his palm - it looked painful and Ryan guessed it was because his hand movement wasn't fast enough.

By the time the tryouts were over, everyone who participated was covered in dirt, soot and sweat. Despite how much energy they had spent, they all seemed to be in high spirits and some even questioned whether they could borrow the pitch for awhile to play.

"I'm betting ten Dragots Jamia will put you in the team," said Dallon when he handed Brendon a towel and a water bottle. "You did great!"

"Thanks!" Brendon wiped his face then cringed when he saw the stains he left on his towel. There was something about the enthusiasm Brendon was exuding that reminded Ryan of when he first tried out for the Slytherin team back in his second year; the sudden thought made his heart squeeze painfully.

At first, Brendon didn't realize Ryan was standing a little away until he turned his head slightly spotted the boy in the Slytherin jumper. Brendon's mouth formed an  _O_ , eyes widening for a millisecond, when he broke into a grin that could outshine the sun. "Ryan!" He pushed his bottle and towel hastily to Dallon then climbed over the barrier separating the pitch and the stands. Ryan was taken aback by his suddenness and nearly backed away in response.

"What do you think?" Brendon asked abruptly.

"What?"

"About how I played today." Brendon clarified. "Was it as good as the Slytherin Keeper?"

For a moment, Ryan was at a loss for words. He didn't know what expectations Brendon had for his old teammate and why Brendon would want to compare himself with that. In that moment, Ryan could've rolled his eyes and said something sarcastic or ignore Brendon like he did most of the time but he was too surprised to say anything other than, "It wasn't too bad." Incredulous of the words that had escaped from him, Ryan flushed then spun on his heel and walked off.

Both Brendon and Dallon stared after Ryan, unsure of what to make of him. They exchanged looks. "Well, at least he didn't say something that isn't nice," Dallon observed though he kept his tone neutral. "In fact, it sounded like a compliment."

Brendon flushed, removed his glove and thwacked his best friend with it. "Shush."

"Don't shush me. The truth can't be shushed."

"Dallon, that was an opinion."

"But it's  _my_  opinion."

▬▬▬

The following day was the day for Thunderbird tryouts. Compared to the morning the day before, Ryan was eager to attend it.

"Hey, so I was wondering," said Brendon, "do you wanna come down with us to Bootshaven to hang out?"

Ryan stopped pulling on his socks and frowned. "Who's us?" he asked.

"Er, Dallon, Spence, Frank - if he's not taking today off to help the Muggle Music club rehearse the songs for the Halloween Feast - and maybe Lynn and Hayley?"

Ryan glanced at the alarm clock on their shared nightstand then at Brendon. "I'm sorry, I'm busy today," he said.

Brendon's face fell. "Oh," he spoke in a tiny voice that was heavy with disappointment. "Off to study?"

"No. I'm going to the Thunderbird tryouts." Immediately, Ryan wished his lips hadn't been so loose because he recognized that questioning look forming on Brendon's features.

"Why?"

"I don't see why I shouldn't go."

"But you didn't want to go to Pukwidgie's yesterday," Brendon muttered under his breath and Ryan felt a tiny twinge of guilt. "Is Spencer the reason why you don't wanna come along with me and my friends? I could tell him to be nicer --"

"No, that's not why --"

"Then is it because you don't like how Frank always talks too loudly --"

"No. Listen --"

"Or is it because --"

"I'm going to watch Will!" Ryan burst annoyance. Realizing what he said, he went red in the face and put on his shoes instead.

Brendon was silent for a few seconds; there was this unreadable look on his face. "You mean that fifth year Thunderbird you always hang out with?" Had Ryan been paying attention, he would've noticed the way Brendon's voice caught at the end.

"Yes." Ryan stood up, looking at anywhere but Brendon.

Lips pressing together tightly, Brendon nodded as his eyes fell to the floor. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was getting in the way between you and your boyfriend." It really was a genuine apology but for some reason the way he worded his sentence sounded like mockery and contempt to Ryan's ears.

Fists curling, Ryan's eyes cut towards Brendon, burning with defiance. "Will's not my boyfriend," he tried to say in a sharp tone but the blood coloring his cheeks belied him. "Stop assuming things, Urie." He paused. "You always do that when it comes to me."

He didn't know the effect his words had on Brendon.

His mood dampened, Ryan made it to the tryouts with a scowl on his face that made even some of the older students want to keep their distance. The tryouts began shortly after he arrived at the stadium and proceeded smoothly. It would've been exciting to watch because the Thunderbirds were playing with amazing speed and agility, making every move look graceful, except the earlier argument Ryan had with Brendon kept replaying in his head just as he was about to forget about it.

When the tryouts ended, Ryan went down to the pitch to meet Will. Pushing the argument as far as possible at the back of his mind, he decided to focus on Will. However when he arrived at the pitch, Will was already surrounded his friends who were all patting his back and babbling words of encouragement. Ryan tried to join in but eventually he was drowned out by Will's more outgoing friends. However just as he considered slipping away, Will called him out and invited him to have Butterbeer at Bootshaven later that afternoon.

Ryan's reaction had been tepid.

In the end, he gave in and followed Will. He had been to Bootshaven once or twice to buy school supplies but that was just about it. The place was relatively new to him. Will noticed the way Ryan peered around curiously and found it amusing. "Have you never been here before?" Will asked as they walked down the path leading to the heart of the town.

"I have, but not to explore." The sight of students from school and wizardfolk, along with the occasional goblin, milling about reminded Ryan of Hogsmeade.

"Well, I can see why Thunderbird didn't choose you. You're not very adventurous, are you?"

Ryan shrugged. "Not really." There was a time when he used to drag Jimmy and Lindsey around for sightseeing but not anymore. Besides, he couldn't do the same to Will.

They were passing by a crowded street now, the press of bodies around them forcing them to walk as close together as possible. Though Ryan did his best to ignore it, the few brushes of his and Will's hand caused the tiny urge to hold the other boy's hand to creep up to him; he had his face turned slightly away to hide the flush spreading across his cheeks. They made it to the inn Will had talked about and Ryan's stomach did a slow uneasy flip when they entered.

The place was nearly filled up with students, sprinkled with a few aged customers. It was very noisy inside, the air choked with sounds of conversations and music playing in the overhead speakers. Ryan and Will chose a seat near the back where it was less crowded. Taking the laminated menu, Ryan took some time to peruse it.

"Aren't your friends coming along too?" Ryan asked, glancing at the door every so often he saw people going in and out of the place.

Will was making a crane out of the napkins. "Nah. I just thought we could hang out together," he said plainly.

That statement caused Ryan's heart to miss a beat, and then beat faster than it usually did. Pressing his lips together, Ryan glanced away briefly. "Y-you didn't have to," he mumbled, unable to ignore how warm his face had gotten. "I don't mind being in the crowd."

"Really?" Will looked surprised. "Sorry, I just thought you liked it better if we hung out together since you never have much to say when we're with everyone else." There was a certain shyness in the way he spoke that tugged on Ryan's insides. Will's lashes veiled his eyes briefly.

Against his volition, Ryan's mind replayed that one word by Brendon.

_Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend._

_Shut up_ , Ryan thought. Will was just his friend. There was nothing about them that would suggest intimacy of that sort. At least, that was the reason his brain gave. But his heart said otherwise; being here alone with Will made him feel special in a way he couldn't describe. Being here with Will filled him with warmth, and a bit of happy nervousness.

"Thank you," Ryan blurted, "for wanting to hang out with me." He sounded slightly out-of-breath.

"No worries. Also, you don't have to thank me." Will smiled at him, and Ryan's heartbeat went faster.

But just as things were going great in the air for the two of them, the moment Ryan decided to take his eyes off Will and look at the door was the moment he saw Brendon and his friends. In that split second, Brendon had looked his way too so their gazes met. Then there was the part where they looked away, uninvited awkwardness attacking both of them.

"What's wrong?" Will asked, noticing the way Ryan zoned out on the conversation. There was a tiny frown of concern creasing his brow.

Shaking his head, Ryan's gaze was back on Will's. "Nothing," he said. "Just thought I saw someone I knew." He didn't look in Brendon's direction again after that.


	13. let him in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **trigger warnings for chapter**
> 
> description of anxiety attack
> 
> flashbacks of traumatic event
> 
> _the beginning and end of scenes with the following triggers will be marked with a triple-asterisk (***)_

The most ironic thing that happened today was how the Pukwudgie and Wampus house were forbidden to start fires with the use of magic even though they would be working with Salamanders, fire-dwelling creatures, for Magizoology. Apparently, Frank had been messing around with an Incendio Charm while Professor Aurelius was explaining the risks of handling Salamanders; a tree had caught on fire and the whole class was given a scolding once the flames were put out.

"You know, you could try to gather more tinder or something," said Ryan pointedly at his partner for today, also known as Frank. "The fire keeps going out and could you stand a little to your left to block the wind? Thanks." They were not the only ones who were having trouble trying to start a fire the No-Maj way. A few feet away, someone from Wampus cursed aloud in anger.

Frank rolled his eyes and squatted beside Ryan, watching the clumsy way Ryan was trying to strike the flint. Furtively, Frank glanced around at the other students who were also struggling then whispered to Ryan, "Aurelius isn't here, so I say we use Incendio and light this devil up." He already had his wand out and an impish smile plastered on his face.

Ryan sighed, wiping away the sweat forming on his brow then looked over his shoulder. Behind him observing Brendon and Hayley was Spencer; the fifth-year Wampus had volunteered to watch over them while Professor Aurelius went to retrieve the Salamanders from the Nursery. "That'd be proper," Ryan said, "but I think you've forgotten that Smith's watching us."

"Oh yeah." Frank sighed, pushing back a stray strand of his dark hair. He opened his mouth once more, and Ryan knew he was going to give yet another silly suggestion. "Okay, how about --"

"How's everything going on here?" Spencer had decided to approach the two of them after prowling around. Unlike how he asked everyone else, there was a small hint of contemptuous amusement in his tone.

"Great," Frank replied, and Ryan silently sent thanks to him for the sarcasm. "As you can see, my friend here has stubbed his finger a few times." As Ryan had his head ducked, neither Frank nor Spencer could see the way his face turned red out of both frustration and embarrassment.

The corners of Spencer's mouth curled slightly upwards. "That's too bad. Does he want to go to the Infirmary to get it looked at?"

There was the sound of hard objects being dropped in the ceramic fire bowl. Everyone looked up to find Ryan standing, glaring up at Spencer. "Thanks for your concern, but  _I'm fine_ ," Ryan snapped. "Never felt better."

Finally realizing the situation was serious, Frank dropped his insouciant attitude and tried to defuse the whole thing. "We appreciate you for checking up on us but we're making a lot of progress --"

Spencer was unfazed. "I'm pretty sure the two of you would have gotten that fire going if you've been working together like you were  _supposed_  to do, instead of bickering or lazing around." Both Frank and Ryan was speechless, though Frank's was out of embarrassment while Ryan was due to anger.

Breaking away from everyone else was Brendon, looking pale with alarm. He rushed towards the three boys but placed his hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Spence, he's not worth it," he said. "He's  _not_  worth it."

Ryan's eyes immediately landed on Brendon. Though Brendon didn't specify who wasn't worth it, Ryan couldn't help but feel as if he'd been slapped, both physically and emotionally. Anger had dissolved from his features, leaving behind hurt and shock. Perhaps the worst part was how Brendon was purposely ignoring him. Pressing his lips together and blinking hard a few times, Ryan tried to steady his breaths and turned away. He gave them silence, in hopes they'd leave him be.

When Professor Aurelius returned with the crate containing the Salamanders, the atmosphere thick with tension - it went unnoticed by the teacher.

The Salamanders were friendly and didn't mind being petted by the students (when the lizards were out of the fire, of course) and made tiny satisfied sounds when they were fed with pepper. They were scarlet in color and roughly the size of Ryan's palm when curled but Professor Aurelius said they'd grow bigger if the conditions were right. However, Ryan shouldn't have trusted Frank to pick a Salamander - apparently, their Salamander was probably having a bad day as it kept trying to snap at their fingers.

"Yours has quite a temper," Spencer commented when he passed by to help Patrick Stump with his Salamander. "It suits you."

Ryan scowled and left Frank to deal with their grumpy Salamander alone.

▬▬▬

"I could talk to him if he keeps bothering you like this," Will suggested in a serious manner right after Ryan had finished recounting about what had happened during Magizoology earlier that day. A rare frown made itself present on Will's features.

Ryan shook his head, surprised that Will would want to do such a thing. "No, it's fine. You don't have to talk to Smith." Red tinted his cheeks. "I just wanted to whine, that's all."

Ryan and Will were hanging out at their usual spot in the library, where they met to do homework, study or catch up with each other. There weren't a lot of people here today as everyone was hurrying off to finish decorating the castle with Halloween-related ornaments.

"I'm pretty sure what Smith's doing is bullying," Will said firmly after a pause.

Ryan wanted to speak but thought it was best to keep quiet. Lips pressed together, he rested his head on the table and closed his eyes for awhile. He dozed off a few times, waking every time with a start until the fifth time he caught himself, he sat up and stretched. Stifling a yawn, he rubbed his eyes then regarded Will curiously.

"Need any help?" Ryan asked, hoping Will would give him something to do so he wouldn't fall asleep.

Will hesitated then nodded. He passed his notebook to Ryan, saying, "Um, just ask me any random thing from the notes and I'll explain. If you can't understand me or if what I say sounds very different from what's in the notes, then mark the answer with a pencil so I'll go back to it later." So Ryan did as he was told and Will did what he said he'd do. Truthfully, Ryan was impressed Will was very clear and concise about his explanations and had no trouble answering. Ryan enjoyed his task, at least until he got to the section regarding the Unforgivable Curses.

"Name the the three Unforgivable Curses," Ryan said.

"The Imperius Curse, the Killing Curse, and the Cruciatus Curse," Will answered.

That was when Ryan's heart skipped, the abrupt tug of fearful familiarity on his insides. "Oh," he responded then tried to make himself focus on Will's notes. The neat lines of handwriting began to waver in his vision. "Um, what are their incantations?"

"Avada Kedavra for the Killing Curse, Imperio for Imperius and Crucio for Cruciatus."

The words were becoming unreadable, only comprehensible to Ryan as lines of black ink. He blinked a few times, trying to make sense out of what he was seeing. "Y-yeah, I think that's all I'm going to ask." He quickly returned the book to Will and attempted to divert his attention at anything other than what he had just read.

***

 _Don't think about it. Don't you_ _fucking_ _dare_ , he told himself inwardly. No matter how hard he tried blocking his thoughts out, his mind didn't bend to his will. He could feel his skin growing hot and his throat beginning to close up for no reason. He had his eyes squeezed shut but that didn't work because he could see  _those_  images.

 _Crucio_.  _Flashes of red. Agonizing pain_.  _H_ _is desperate screams_.  _Her cackling laughter_.

"I-I don't feel so good right now," Ryan said hastily, getting up after a minute or so. His face had gone pale and there was cold sweat breaking out on his nape. Without any explanation, he walked out of the library. He wasn't aware of where he was going, allowing his body to go on autopilot. People passed by him, some of them waving or greeting him but to Ryan, their voices couldn't be heard over the roaring of blood in his ears.

He found himself in a bathroom stall, sitting on the floor and sobbing. He had bitten his fist in attempts to muffle his cries and use the pain to snap himself out of it. But all he could think of was how helpless he'd been when the Woman attacked, how the pain had wracked and tore at his nerves, how she had destroyed him and laughed in glee. He didn't know how long he sat there, only knew how the waves crashed on him and pulled him under over and over again, leaving him battered.

***

When he managed to calm down, he was detachedly aware that he wasn't the only person in this bathroom; apparently, there were sniffs from outside his stall as well. Getting up from his curled-up sitting position, he unlocked his stall and stepped out to see who it was.

"You," Ryan said.

Standing by the sinks and going red in the face was Brendon. Had Ryan not broken down earlier, he would've snapped at Brendon.

"Sorry," said Brendon, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose then wiping his nose. "I heard someone crying and I thought I'd wait for whoever it was to calm down and, y'know, talk to them to see --"

Ryan simply stared at Brendon.

"Well, I didn't know it was you," Brendon added hurriedly, "and if I did, I --" He broke off, turned away and then sneezed loudly. Then he faced Ryan again, wiping his nose with his sleeve then sniffing. "I'm sorry if I'm bothering --"

Ryan had pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and was holding it out to Brendon. The look on his face was impassive. "Wipe your snot with this," he said. "It's disgusting when you do that with your sleeves."

Brendon's eyes widened then he went red in the face. Looking embarrassed, he accepted Ryan's handkerchief and wiped his nose with it. "Thank you."

"And you weren't bothering me." Ryan pressed his lips together, feeling his pride getting in the way of his words. He opened his mouth but what he wanted to say couldn't come out so instead, he asked, "What's with your nose?"

"I think I caught a bug from one of the Wampuses," Brendon replied. "That or someone must've shot me with a Runny Nose jinx." Ryan couldn't imagine why anyone would want to jinx Brendon, apart from Ryan; Brendon seemed to get along with everyone. "There goes my two-year streak of not catching a cold," sighed Brendon ruefully. "Anyway, I'll be off now. See you at --"

"Wait." Ryan hesitated. "Do you mind if I walk with you?" As soon as he asked the question, he felt a bit silly. He hadn't been nice to Brendon lately so he should be expecting Brendon to make up a half-assed excuse or say no to his face.

Brendon looked surprised. "O-oh, um, what? Walk with me?"

It was too late to back out now. "Where were you planning to go?" Ryan asked.

"The common room."

"I'll tag along then."

There was a funny look on Brendon's face that Ryan couldn't immediately identify. "Okay then." Brendon's voice turned shaky and higher than usual. This didn't go unnoticed by Ryan, but for Brendon's sake, Ryan chose to ignore it. They passed long hallways without uttering so much as a word to each other. It was probably one of the most awkward walks Ryan had ever had, which made him almost regret his decision.

Brendon also looked uncomfortable with the silence. He kept glancing at Ryan from the corner of his eye, thumbing Ryan's handkerchief absentmindedly. "So," he said a bit too loudly that his voice echoed around the empty hallway they were passing through, "how are you feeling?"

Ryan paused to consider his response. "Nothing." He didn't even know why he didn't bother lying about his feelings, as he usually did. There was that hollow sensation in his chest, one he was familiar with that never failed to follow every time he broke down. "Don't ask why, Urie," he added when he saw Brendon open his mouth.

"I wasn't going to ask that." Brendon wiped his nose with the handkerchief then sniffed loudly. "I was going to ask whether you're going to dinner tonight."

"Why?"

"Because I heard they'll be serving Professor Fontaine's famous gumbo."

"What on earth is that?"

Brendon arched his eyebrows. "You haven't lived till you've tried the Headmaster's gumbo. It's so good! I think the last time he served it, I ate so much I got a stomachache, but man, it was  _so_  worth it." Then a flush crept up his cheeks. "Oh god, I sound like a pig."

"It's fine." Ryan pressed his lips together. "It must be really good then." They were now walking along the path leading to the Pukwudgie Common Room now. The sky overhead was tinted orange, clouds tinted pink and gold from the fading light. Ryan remembered overhearing one of the students talking about how they watched the sunset with their significant other and how romantic it'd been. He tried to picture himself appreciating the sunset but his thoughts were interrupted when Brendon sneezed loudly. Ryan sighed wearily.

"You'd better ask Puck and see if he's got any remedies for you."

▬▬▬

     

"Take all the time you need to deliver this letter, okay Gus?" Ryan adjusted his letter on the leg of the red-tailed hawk that had always been the first to leap at the opportunity of delivering Ryan's letters. "Just be careful."

The Aviary was located at the top of one of the towers at Ilvermorny, within the sight of the Thunderbird dorms. It was almost sunrise now, its golden light peeking above the horizon. Right now, some of the birds of prey were waking up and looking down at Ryan from their perches. He hadn't brought any food with him, otherwise they would've all begged from him sooner.

Ryan had woken up this morning groggy, getting out of bed only after Brendon had left the room for his usual morning jog, and dragged himself all the way here. It was a long walk up here and it certainly did its job at pushing Ryan into wakefulness; he didn't mind the long distance. Besides, being up here early in the morning meant he wouldn't run into anyone who'd try to talk to him.

After fastening the letter securely to Gus' leg, Ryan slipped on a gauntlet to let the hawk perch on his arm and walked towards the balcony. The hawk spread its wings impressively, let out a screech then launched itself skywards. Ryan stood there, watching the bird's figure grow smaller and smaller until it was simply a speck on the horizon. Taking off his gauntlet, he sighed and went to return it to the storage chest in the Aviary. That was when he realized he wasn't alone.

Feeding an intimidating Eagle Owl was Spencer Smith. The sight of him and his bird caused Ryan's stomach to tighten with both annoyance and apprehension. As if aware of Ryan staring at him, Spencer raised his blue-eyed gaze to the younger boy. "Lovely Saturday morning, innit?"

Ryan couldn't help but roll his eyes at Spencer's weak attempt at using a British slang. "Your accent sounds forced, Smith. It isn't convincing enough."

The corners of Spencer's mouth lifted. "Well, at least I tried."

"What are you doing here?"

Spencer's Eagle Owl let out a screech, glaring at Ryan with its lambent orange eyes. "Can't I visit Nina?" At the mention of her name, the owl butted its head playfully on Spencer's hand.

Ryan didn't answer. Instead, he picked his way to the exit, careful not to step on any droppings or bones of tiny animals the birds feasted when he heard Spencer speak once more.

"I don't know what goes on in your head but you should stay away from Brendon."

Ryan stopped, his muscles stiffening. Slowly, he looked over his shoulder at Spencer with eyes narrowed. "I don't know," Ryan began, using the same tone as Spencer did, "what goes on in your head but you should mind your bloody business."

The smile on Spencer's face looked malicious. "Brendon's business is my business," he stated. "Maybe they do it differently at Hogwarts but here in Ilvermorny, the game's different. If you ever hurt him I will not hesitate to knock you out with my bare fists."

"Terrifying." Though Ryan's tone feigned indifference, his body had begun to shake. He had never once feared people bigger than he was because he was always faster but Spencer was different; Ryan had always been the one who stood up for those who were threatened but now that he was in that position he didn't know how to react. Then a sudden thought occurred to him that his mouth reacted to it before his brain could fully process it. "But like Brendon said, 'I'm not worth it,' so you might as well save your fists for beating up someone your own size."

Those words had hurt Ryan when he heard them and it hurt even more to repeat them but they were his only chance to keep Spencer away. Triumph rushed in his veins when he saw Spencer hesitate. But it was short-lived.

A scornful laugh escaped Spencer. "So it's true when they say snakes do what they can to save their own pathetic skins. No wonder you were in Slytherin."

At Ryan's sides, his fists tightened in anger. Right now the idea of wiping that smirk off Spencer's face with his fists seemed more tempting than casting a Stinging Jinx. He would've loved nothing more than to show Spencer he wasn't one to be belittled and driven into a corner for amusement. But then he thought about how much of a mess he'd be in if he fought Spencer and how everybody would try to fuss over him. "Fuck you," he spat.

As he stormed down the steps of the tower, hot tears splashing down his face, he could hear Spencer laughing.

▬▬▬

" _When the moon found the sun,_ " sang Brendon in front of the crowd, " _he looked like he was barely hanging on_."

Somewhere in the back of the Pukwudgie common room, Ryan scoffed and rolled his eyes. Ever since his meeting with Spencer, his mood for the whole day has been spoiled. If he had a choice, he'd sulk in his dorm the whole day except tonight was the bimonthly karaoke night for the house. Puck had made him drag himself to join in but he managed to escape the Pukwudgie.

Once the song was finished, cheers erupted from the room. In the front, Brendon grinned and did a tiny wave before hopping off the makeshift stage for someone else. Ryan watched him from the back, remembering what Spencer had told him then went back to scowling all by himself.

"Hey, you're not gonna go up there and sing?" Brendon had pushed his way through the crowd and had sat himself next to Ryan.

"No, because I don't want to and I can't sing to save my life."

Brendon laughed. "You're not gonna sing for your life up there. I mean, nobody's judging you for your voice. They just want a good show." As though to make his point, Josh had gone up on stage and begun drumming to DCAC's  _Highway To Hell_  while Puck and a first year Pukwudgie student began to sing offkey.

Ryan cringed. "If they want to embarrass themselves, fine by me." His arms folded across his chest as he glanced at the corridor leading to the boys' dorms.

Brendon followed his gaze then sighed. He didn't know why Ryan was moody today - well, moodier than usual, that is. He'd been hoping his rendition of Anxiety! At the Club's  _When The Day Met The Night_  would amuse Ryan enough to make him smile but as that tiny voice of negativity in his mind predicted, Brendon wasn't successful. Biting his lower lip, he looked to Ryan and said, "So how was your day?"

Ryan opened his mouth, wanting to give a piece of his mind about Spencer because it'd been bothering him all day but decided against it. He'd been told off earlier that week that he complained too much anyway. "Mediocre," he told Brendon, drawing his knees up to his chin.

"Oh." Brendon's hand was in his pocket, fiddling with something inside. He also seemed distracted, evident from that distant look in his eyes. It was something Ryan noticed Brendon tended to do lately.

Out of curiosity, Ryan asked, "What's in your pocket?"

Brendon looked as though he'd been caught red-handed. "Huh?" His face had turned pale before blood rushed into his cheeks. "Which one?"

Ryan resisted the urge to roll his eyes at Brendon's feeble attempt at ignorance. "The one with your hand in it."

Brendon turned redder then pulled out the object from his pocket; it was Ryan's handkerchief. Something stirred in Ryan seeing that in Brendon's hand. "I meant to give it back," Brendon said tremulously, "but I kept losing my nerve because - well --" His eyes flitted away from Ryan's.

There was a dull throbbing ache in Ryan's chest now. Though he didn't get along with Brendon much, it hurt him a little to realize his roommate seemed afraid of him. Perhaps it'd been today's events that pushed him to let his guard down a little. "Am I that unapproachable?" Ryan's voice wavered. At first, Brendon gave him a confused look. "Does ... does everyone think I'm a horrid person?" Ryan asked.

Brendon's lips folded together. "Well ... I can't speak for everyone --" he broke off when he saw Ryan's jaw tighten. "But some of the people I know think you're kinda scary."

"Oh." He had been expecting a response that was similar to this. After all, he had noticed some people keeping their distance from him, glance at him as if they expected him to blow up or whispered behind his back. It was like his last semester at Hogwarts again, when people feared him and treated him like some kind of pariah. The backs of his eyes began to sting; Ryan knew this was a sign that he was about to cry, along with the sensation of his throat closing painfully, so he turned his face away.

Brendon sensed right away something was wrong when Ryan did just that. But he didn't move. He was afraid. Afraid that Ryan would tell him not to care, which was the most useless thing because how could Brendon not care about Ryan? Ignoring the beating of his pulse in his ears, he said, "Do you wanna take a walk or something?"

Ryan could feel his eyes beginning to water. "Isn't it against the school rules to be wandering outside at night?" Though his voice was hard, there was an undertone of his emotions.

"Not if we get caught."

Against better reasoning, Ryan found himself sneaking out of the common room with Brendon afterwards when everyone was too busy cheering for someone who had sung a song about doors. His heart was pounding with the fear of being caught by one of the teachers and the thrill of breaking rules. It was a long time since he'd ever snuck out of the dorms at night; the last time he did was with Jimmy and Lindsey when they wanted to watch the meteor shower together at two in the morning.

"We should go this way if you wanna avoid the Pukwudgies." Brendon glanced around to check their surroundings before he gestured for Ryan to follow him. Together, they went along the path that led to the slopes of the mountain. When they got further away from the castle, they had their wands out with the Lumos spell lighting their way until they found a suitable spot near a copse of trees where they could hide in case anyone spotted them.

"It's been a long time since I came up here," said Brendon as he dug around the backpack he had brought along with him before they had escaped here.

Ryan was staring out at the sky, watching the stars twinkle softly against the darkness. "How long?"

"A week."

"That's long for you?" Ryan scoffed incredulously.

Brendon ignored Ryan's question. Instead he pulled out a blanket from his backpack and proceeded to unfold it. "It gets cold up here." He offered the blanket to Ryan.

"No thanks." A breeze picked up, chilling Ryan and making him change his decision almost right away. "Wait, I think I need that blanket." The two boys ended up sharing the blanket, half of it was used to wrap Brendon's body and the other was used by Ryan's. It was strange, Ryan thought, to be in such close proximity with someone he usually went out of the way to avoid socializing with. Yet here they were, under the moon and stars, enjoying the tranquility of night.

"It's nice up here," Ryan said thoughtfully after a few minutes of silence. "It reminds me a bit of when I used to sneak out to meet with Jimmy and Lindsey by the shores of the Black Lake." There was a hint of wistfulness in his tone.

"Your Hogwarts friends?" Brendon asked.

Ryan nodded. "Yeah. Sometimes, we'd bump into the older students but they ... well --" He was glad it was too dark to anyone to see how red his face had gotten. "Anyway, it was fun when we snuck out on some nights to see if we could spot the Giant Squid."

"Huh?!" Brendon's jaw had dropped in surprise. "Can your old school get any cooler? Holy cow, a giant squid? That's -  _that's wicked_!" It was the tiniest bit amusing to Ryan to hear the awe in Brendon's tone. "Damn, Hogwarts kids must be hardcore."

"Not as hardcore as Ilvermorny's." Ryan couldn't help but let out a small laugh. "I've never met people who'd actually consider using their fists instead of their wands. Fighting like a Muggle isn't something most Hogwarts kids would do."

"It's more satisfying," Brendon said, "not that I've actually punched anyone. I have arm strength of noodles." He laughed but Ryan didn't join in so he stopped awkwardly.

"What I also like about Ilvermorny is how it doesn't have silly house rivalries."

Brendon frowned. "What are you talking about? You should see how hyped up everyone in Pukwudgie gets around April Fool's Day - I mean, Pukwudgies are natural pranksters. And Thunderbird during our annual falconry contests. Or Wampus during any sports event. Even Horned Serpent gets all gung-ho during Founder's Day."

Ryan sighed. "Not that kind of house rivalry. Ilvermorny's all ... fun and games and everyone gets along for the most part. But at Hogwarts, we've still got that stupid thing where Gryffindors don't get along with Slytherins because the founders of those houses didn't agree on each other's values."

"Weren't they married?"

" _What?_ "

"Judging from your reaction, I think I must've heard the wrong information," Brendon said quickly.

Ryan wore a perplexed frown but made no further comment. "But even if there are some parts about Hogwarts I want to change," he continued, "I miss it." His voice began to shake when he continued to talk. "I miss waking up to seeing the Black Lake through my window. I miss seeing the Slytherin Common Room. I miss making stupid jokes in class and getting told off by the teachers for it. I miss playing Quidditch. Godammit, Brendon, I miss so many things and yet --" he broke off, forcing his lips together to stop himself.

The things he said were things he'd kept to himself for some time now, allowing them to fester and hurt him from inside. He didn't know why, out of all times, he let his emotions get the best of him, especially in front of Brendon.

Beside Ryan, Brendon looked panicked. He hadn't expected Ryan to start crying. "Oh god, oh god, oh god," he was whispering under his breath while hesitating on how he should try to calm Ryan down. No way he'd touch Ryan, otherwise he might get slapped again; using words wasn't an option as well because Ryan didn't look like he was in a state to listen. It tore Brendon up inside, being this helpless.

"Here." Out of ideas, Brendon simply handed Ryan the handkerchief he'd been lent when he had a runny nose the other say. "To dry your tears or something."

Through tear-misted eyes, Ryan regarded the handkerchief then took it. "I can't believe this," he said tremulously.

"What?" Brendon asked, frightened.

"I can't believe I  _cried_  in front of you." Ryan made it sound like a bad thing. "This wasn't supposed to happen."

Silence was Brendon's first response. "Well, you don't have to feel uncomfortable crying around me," he said. "I won't tell anyone."

"I'm not worth it, Urie," Ryan said, repeating the words Brendon had told Spencer. It was like tearing open a healing a wound. "You said so yourself."

Guilt and embarrassment flashed across Brendon's features. "I only said that because Spencer has other things to waste his anger on. Besides, it wasn't very nice of him to pick on you like that." He paused. "But you  _really_  are worth it, okay? I swear." He looked at Ryan earnestly. "That's what I think, anyway."

Ryan didn't answer because they heard grass rustling somewhere behind them. Their heads whipped around, spotting two figures of Pukwudgie caretakers. Both boys hissed under their breaths and took off into the copse of trees. Because Ryan thought Brendon's breaths would give them away, he clamped a hand over Brendon's mouth as they laid themselves flat against the ground.

"I could've sworn I saw kids here," grumbled one of the Pukwudgies.

"You must be imagining things," said the other Pukwudgie with a higher, more feminine voice.

Ryan's heart was pounding as he locked his gaze on the two Pukwudgies through tiny gaps in the vegetation that hid them. Pukwudgies, Ryan learned, had a sharp sense of smell so any wrong move and they'd be spotted. It was a good thing him and Brendon were downwind of the caretakers.

"Excuse you, but I saw what I saw." The first Pukwudgie bent down to inspect the grass. "See? The grass is flattened ... and it feels kinda warm too. I bet you my next cookie there were definitely kids out on a date in the moonlight."

Ryan's cheeks burned as he glanced over Brendon, who now had the lower half of his face covered with Ryan's handkerchief to muffle the sounds of his breaths.

"We might as well leave them be. Judging from their scent, they were probably just enjoying the sight and do nothing else other than that."

"Can hardly blame them. The moon's looking beautiful tonight."

Soon, both Pukwudgies left the scene, allowing both Brendon and Ryan to emerge from the copse they were hiding in. Ryan's heart was pounding and it wasn't just from the adrenaline that had rushed in his bloodstream earlier when they nearly got caught. There was an unspoken agreement between the two as they folded up the blanket, packed it away, and left the slope they sat on.

On their way back to the common room, Ryan remembered what he wanted to say. "Keep the bloody handkerchief, for Merlin's sake, Urie."


	14. the dueling club

Despite how his cloak was supposed to keep him warm during winter, Ryan was shivering from the cold. He had his hood drawn up to cover his face from the freezing wind but the tip of his nose was turning bright red from the low temperatures. Shivering, he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of his assigned group members. "Are we even close to the Wampus nursery?" he asked.

Brendon trudged through the snow up to him, holding a map and a compass. He reached and pulled the handkerchief that obscured the lower half of his face. "We should be. We are headed in the right direction, I'm sure of that."

"We're doomed," said Gerard as they caught up with Brendon and Ryan. There was fur all over where their skin was supposed to be. Gerard was a metamorphagus, apparently, and usually maintained an androgynous appearance. Shaking their head, their fur disappeared, leaving behind skin. "We might never catch up with the others."

There was a noise of surprise from behind the trio. All three people turned their heads to find Patrick struggling to get out of the snow he fell onto. Brendon gave Ryan the navigation equipment and went to lend Patrick a hand. Though Ryan agreed with Gerard, a part of him refused to believe this was it. "We could send up a flare so they'll find us," Ryan suggested, pulling his hand out from under his cloak.

"And lose points for not being able to read a map?" asked Gerard haughtily as they took the map and compass from Ryan's hands. "Please. Brendon must've been reading the whole thing wrong."

Brendon, who had already hauled Patrick out of the snow, turned his face away but Ryan could tell he was hurt.

A frown formed on Ryan's face as he turned to a complaining Gerard. "I could've been in the same group with a Wampus. Only  _they_  would know the best place to look for the cat their house was named after. Instead, all I get is a bunch of non-Wampuses."

Patrick made a series of hand gestures to Brendon, casting glances at Gerard. Ryan didn't understand what it meant but apparently Brendon did because he shrugged with a weary look on his face.

"If you're not happy with us, you're welcome to find your own way," Ryan said, his tone as cold as the freezing air of their surroundings. "I heard Thunderbirds have an innate sense of direction." He didn't flinch when Gerard turned on him.

"Hey hey, let's just take a break, alright?" Brendon interrupted, pushing in between both Gerard and Ryan. "We've been hiking for an hour now and I think Patrick's hurt his foot," he said placatingly.

Gerard tsked in annoyance and trudged towards the shelter of tall trees. Ryan stared after them, scowling, before facing Brendon and Patrick. Brendon was right - Patrick was holding up his leg funny and needed the support of Brendon. Without hesitation, Ryan slung Patrick's free arm over his shoulder and helped Patrick to a boulder to sit. "Ahh, we're in a timeline God abandoned," Brendon muttered under his breath as he unzipped his backpack. "Ryan, did you bring anything we could use as a splint?" There was something strange about the way he spoke.

As Ryan handed Brendon a large notebook he carried around for taking notes, he noticed the way Brendon's hands shook. He said nothing of it, instead watched as Brendon wrapped the notebook around Patrick's foot then held it fast by wrapping a strip of cloth tightly around it. First-aid classes had been a must back at Hogwarts and at Ilvermorny but Ryan didn't think he needed them until now.

Since he didn't want to be completely useless, Ryan dug around his backpack and produced a Thermos flask. Puck had made Ryan pack some soup he made earlier because Puck was worried they might get hungry on their hike to the Wampus Cats' nursery. "Here." Ryan handed Patrick a cup full of soup.

Patrick smiled in gratitude and took sips of the soup, his glasses fogging from the steam that wafted from the cup. Ryan turned to Brendon, who was also pouring himself some soup. "We should probably share some of our soup with Gerard," Brendon said thoughtfully, hands clasped tightly around his cup.

"You must be joking," Ryan scoffed. "They've been doing nothing but complaining the whole time."

Brendon's lips folded together into line. "I think Gerard's just hungry. They didn't eat much at breakfast today."

"You watch people eat?"

"They were sitting right across me. Of course I could see." Brendon got up. "I'll give the soup to them."

Ryan stared up at Brendon with a thoughtful look on his face. "You don't have to be so nice to everyone, y'know." When Brendon stopped in his tracks, he continued, "They'll just take you for granted."

Brendon didn't say anything in response but turned around and went for Gerard. Ryan watched as Brendon exchanged a few words with the metamorphagus then gave the soup. When Brendon returned to Ryan and Patrick, he said, "Kindness isn't a weakness." Brendon sat on the ground, drinking soup right out of the flask. "And Gerard was hungry."

Things went a little better after their break and soon they found the Wampus cats' nursery. Everyone had already gathered there, though at a safe distance from the clearing where they could observe a family of Wampus cats looking after their kittens. Everyone was cold and tired but the sight made the hike worth their effort. By the time the Magizoology class returned to the castle it was nearly dinner.

All the third-years who'd been out for their expedition practically inhaled the hot meal served to them then recounted their adventures.

"I saw Clabberts on the way to the nursery!" claimed someone from the Wampus table. "They lit up like Christmas lights when we went near their tree!"

"Damn, that's really lucky," Brendon sighed as he looked over at the person who was speak. "All we saw were Doxies and they nearly bit us all."

Frank reached across the table to make a grab for a steamed bun. "Hey, haff you 'eart abouh duh Toolin' Cub?" he asked, bits of food flying.

"Did you lose your table manners in the woods earlier?" Ryan asked irritably, trying to shield his stew from Frank.

Frank shot Ryan an apologetic look and swallowed his food. Then he slapped a pink flyer on the table and beamed proudly. "The Dueling Club," he announced, clearer this time.

"Didn't they close that club a few years ago?" asked Jamia, who was casually eavesdropping. She peered at the flyer curiously the same time the people around Frank did. Murmurs were exchanged as people tried to have a look at the flyer.

"They did, but some sixth-years got the permission to open the club again from Headmaster Fontaine," said a fourth-year Pukwudgie student.

Voices began to clamor at the table.

"What? So they can find a good excuse to hex the fuck out of others?"

"I mean, I wouldn't mind showing the other houses who's best."

"I don't know how all of you made it this far," Josh the councillor spoke loudly as he passed by to collect a bun for himself, "but it says there on the flyer that the purpose is for self-defense."

"Haven't you heard that the best form of defense is offense?" asked someone from Pukwudgie.

Josh sighed. "Eat your stew, Rogers."

What Josh said earlier rung in Ryan's head repeatedly, like an echo that refused to stop. Ryan never had interest in the clubs Ilvermorny had to offer, mainly because he still held disdain for them that they'd never be as fun as Hogwarts'. However, this Dueling Club would be the club he wouldn't hesitate to join. After what had happened to him last summer, joining this club could mean that he'd have a better chance at fighting the Woman if she ever showed her face again.

Ryan wouldn't feel weak and defenseless if he joined that Dueling Club.

"Ryan? Ryan?"

Drawn out of his mind, Ryan raised his gaze to Puck, who had decided to come over to the Pukwudgie table to see what the commotion was all about. There was a look of concern on his warty face, which made Ryan feel embarrassed all of a sudden. "You okay? You kinda zoned out with - Well, how are you feeling?"

Turning his gaze away from Puck's and a few other students from his year looking at him, Ryan muttered, "I'm fine."

Later when the Pukwudgie students returned to their common room, Ryan went straight to bed. Curled under his covers, he thought about how helpless he'd been when the Woman attacked him and how he never wanted to feel that way again. But then he remembered how useless he'd been in combat against her and wondered whether him joining the Dueling Club would help at all. Possessing knowledge of the best spells for dueling was one thing but the Woman seemed like a formidable wizard.

The sound of someone entering the room made Ryan poke his head out of the sheets he'd buried himself in. Realizing it was Brendon, he wiped his face hastily and was about to burrow himself deeper in the comfort of his blankets when Brendon spoke. "Hey are you planning to join the Dueling Club?"

"Mm," Ryan responded, looking at anywhere but Brendon in hopes that the trace of tears on his face would go unnoticed. "You?"

Brendon laughed. "Heck yeah! I mean, I heard stories about the old club and the upper-years said it was fun."

 _Fun._  Ryan's stomach clenched immediately. He wondered what it was like to live like those who thought this club had been founded for the enjoyment for others. That was why he felt envy for those who could walk this earth without the fear of being attacked. They'd never have to suffer from the onslaught of the kind of fear that made one's blood run cold and caused your limbs to lock. They'd never have to know what it's like to feel weak and what it was like to wish they'd have died than suffer so much agony. And Ryan resented that.

"... so some kid from Wampus got their feet --"

"Shut up."

Brendon stopped in midsentence, looking at Ryan with a mixture of surprise and hurt.

The ironlike grip Ryan was holding onto his sheets was enough to almost tear the fabric. His gaze carried bitterness and jealousy but to Brendon it appeared accusing and malevolent. Ryan could tell Brendon was scared by his expression now, and rightfully so. Brendon shouldn't have the right to speak so freely about the Dueling Club in that sort of manner. It was insensitive, really. How could anyone make the club sound like it was founded for leisure rather than survival?

"I'm sorry." Brendon's voice was tiny. He seemed to have shrunken from Ryan's withering gaze. "I ... I didn't mean to upset you," he added contritely.

Ryan opened his mouth to speak his mind when he noticed how hurt Brendon looked. Sympathy played its card and there Ryan was shutting his mouth and laying back in bed.

"Whatever."

▬▬▬

"Nice throw, Gabe!" Will called from the first floor, watching as a snowball fight between Wampus and Horned Serpent commence in the courtyard below. Puffs of his breaths condensed in the cold air as he cheered on for his friends. The tip of his nose and his cheeks were flushed but the smile on his face and the way his eyes lit up with amusement was what caught Ryan's attention most.

With some difficulty, Ryan shifted his focus to the courtyard and tried to remember what he wanted to say to Will earlier.

"Do you know where I can find Francis Twelvetrees?" Ryan asked.

"Twelvetrees?" Will only had time to respond when a snowball came flying in his direction. He ducked to avoid it but the snowball hit his head, sending snow spraying. To Ryan's surprise, he laughed whereas had Ryan been in his position, he would've sworn like a fiend. Will brushed the snow out of his hair and stood up, looking below. "Nice throw, Asher!" Then he turned to Ryan. "Anyway, you wanted to look for Twelvetrees?"

Ryan nodded, tugging absentmindedly on the end of his scarf. "I heard that I have to see him if I want to join the Dueling Club."

A strange expression crossed Will's features. "Ah, I see." Ryan frowned at his lukewarm response. Pressing his lips together, Will looked back outside although the light of amusement in his eyes had gone out, replaced with a thoughtful one. "Are you sure about that?" he asked softly.

Ryan was taken aback by Will's question; it was as though Will was doubtful of him, which Will never had before. Ryan's frown deepened from worry. "What's wrong?"

Will exhaled, sending out a large puff of air that condensed into white in the cold winter air. "It's not that I'm trying to stop you from joining, it's just that - Well, it's just a rumor but --"

"Tell me, Beckett."

Will looked over at Ryan. "I heard about what happened in your D.A.D.A class, the one with the Boggart." Ryan's heart did a slow flip in his chest as Will continued, "I'm just looking out for you, okay?"

"What did you hear?"

"What?"

"The rumor, Will. What did they say about me?"

Ryan could tell Will was caught between telling Ryan everything and keeping silent. "Come with me," Will said then began to walk away from the window. "Ryan, c'mon."

Resisting the urge to snap, Ryan did as he was told. He wanted to ask where they were going but the look on Will's face discouraged him. They passed hallways, went up a flight of stairs and passed more hallways until they reached a room Ryan had never been before.

The Trophy Room.

Removing his wand from inside his jacket, Will pointed it at the door and uttered, "Alohomora." There was a click before Will gave the doorknob a twist. The door opened, creaking as it allowed a large wedge of light to spill into the dark room. Ryan's eyes scanned the surroundings immediately, feeling his heart close up at the sight of shadows.

Will raised his wand once more, casting one more spell that caused the torches in the room to light up. He pocketed his wand then walked towards a display. "Here, look at this."

Ryan stood beside Will and peered at the case. Inside it was a collection of memorabilia of the school's achievements. The trophies and plaques were so polished that they shone. The pictures looked as though they'd been taken yesterday. There were also newspaper clippings placed in frames. He didn't find anything of interest here and was about to voice his thoughts when Will pointed at something. "This person."

Following Will's finger, Ryan's eyes landed on a newspaper clipping, or specifically, a group photo of students. All of them were beaming, looking proud of themselves and congratulating one another. Headmaster Fontaine was there too, looking younger than he was now. However, as Ryan looked at all the faces carefully, he soon recognized two people, standing next to each other, at the end of the row. His breath caught.

"What," Ryan began softly, leaning closer to have a better look, "is George doing with that girl?"

"Huh?" Will frowned with confusion. "Who's George?"

"My father."

Will narrowed his eyes. "To be honest, kinda looks like you." This comment was something Ryan had heard many times over the course of his life but when Ryan looked at himself and compared his appearance with George's, he couldn't see what others saw. But that wasn't Ryan's concern now. He was wondering about the identity of the girl with George.

Ryan glared at the girl beside his father, who had her arms wrapped around him and was nuzzling into him playfully. His stomach tightened with resentment for this nameless girl. What if she'd been the one who broke his parents' marriage? It wasn't impossible. Ryan's father usually went on trips back when Ryan was little so the possibility that he'd met up with this person couldn't be ruled out. "Is this what you wanted to show me?" Ryan asked, tone uninflected.

"No, no." Will pointed again. "The girl with your dad. Does she look familiar?"

Ryan waited until the girl moved her face away from George's. That was when his heart gave a painful skip of recognition. He blanched, eyes widening as he pressed his face to the display with disbelief. "It can't be --" His voice caught.

Looking younger than Ryan remembered, there was no mistaking that the girl in the photograph was the person who had attacked him last summer.

"Someone from your class recognized her," Will explained.

"Who?"

Will looked at Ryan.

"Who is it, Will?" Ryan asked again, this time in a harsher manner. He was facing Will now, eyes burning with anger.

Will took a step back. "I - I don't know! It's just something I heard from my housemates."

"What's this cunt's name?" Ryan demanded.

"Annalise Barebone," Will answered quickly, his expression appearing frightened. He hesitated then reached to place a hand on Ryan's shoulder. "Listen, Ryan, I have something to tell you. But promise you won't get mad."

A small amount of tension slipped from Ryan's posture as he raised his gaze to Will. Still, he didn't lower his guard. "What is it?"

Will pressed his lips together, nodding. "From what I heard about that rumor, the Boggart that turned into Barebone was raised the wand against you. And I heard you panicked and fainted because of that. So ... so I thought you might've --"

"Please stop." Tears were starting to run their course down Ryan's face. " _Please don't remind me._ " His body was shaking and his fists were balled at the sides.

Guilt appeared on Will's features. "Barebone's a criminal. Now I don't know what she did to your family but I'm assuming she did something to you." He paused because Ryan shook his head. "There will come a time when the Dueling Club will hold sparring practices for the members. And I ... I'm afraid that if you participate, fighting someone might remind you too much of Barebone."

Ryan's vision was focused on the floor but it was getting blurry from tears misting it. He blinked hard, letting the tears run their path down his cheeks. His mouth began to shape words on its own accord. "She attacked me, unprovoked in my own home. She must've attacked my mother too - I can't say how I know it but I'm certain of it." He raised his gaze to Will's. "I have to join the Dueling Club. For my sake in case that bitch shows her bloody face again. So take me to Twelvetrees this instant before the club is full."

Will opened his mouth to say something then thought better of it. He looked away from Ryan, lips pressed tightly together. "No."

Ryan stared at Will in shock.

"What if you hurt someone? Or  _yourself_?"

"So what?" Ryan snapped. "It's not like I'd hurt them as much as Barebone did to me!"

"There's no telling what you might do when you spar."

"Don't be a knobhead, Will!" Ryan seethed. "I know my own strength!"

"Ryan, I'm --"

"You're taking me to Twelvetrees."

"No."

Ryan's blood was hot from anger. Exhaling loudly, he stepped away from Will in contempt. "I'll find Twelvetrees myself then. I don't need your help." He shouldered past Will towards the door, bristling with utter indignation. He didn't bother to look back, not until he came to realization he had walked the whole compound of the castle out of spite. He came to a stop at the hallway leading to the carriages that takes students to Bootshaven.

As he was considering to return to the Pukwudgie common room to sulk, he saw a group of three boys heading his way.

"So how many members do we have now for the Dueling club?" asked one of the boys.

"Eh, a lot. I didn't expect anyone to be that interested," replied the one in the middle.

Ryan perked up then walked right up to the group. The boys were taken aback by how direct he was when he said, "Which one of you is Francis Twelvetrees?"

The boys looked at one another when the one to Ryan's left raised his hand awkwardly. The boy was short, had a thin frame and a terrible posture. He also regarded Ryan with protuberant eyes and fidgeted with his scarf like a nervous gesture. This gave Ryan the impression Twelvetrees was a timid person. But when Francis spoke, Ryan was surprised he didn't sound as weak as he looked. "Did you want to join the Dueling Club?"

"I believe so."


	15. come christmas break

"Annalise Barebone?" Puck echoed. "Never heard of her." He was busy tending to his herbs in his plot at one of the greenhouses reserved for teachers to use. Making some noncommittal noise, he eyed the ladybug resting on one of the leaves before dropping his tiny spade. "Who is she?"

"Puck." Ryan put on his most demanding glare and directed it at Puck. "How on earth could you not know? You've worked here at Ilvermorny for years. And she's one of the best students Ilvermorny has ever --"

"Look, kid," Puck interrupted Ryan, pulling off his custom-made gardening gloves and flexing his claws, "I've only been here for fifteen years. I only know the names of the Pukwudgie kids from the year I worked here up till now, much less the kids outside of the house. I don't know nobody who's related to the Barebone family."

Ryan exhaled a loud noise of annoyance and was tempted to kick something. He had considered asking the teachers but they always seemed busy. Even if Ryan did have the opportunity, he was certain the teachers would be wondering why he wanted to know about a criminal. "Do you know any other Pukwudgies who recognize the Barebones?" he questioned.

It was a safe bet to assume other Pukwudgies would help him. After all, he belonged to the house that was named after them and he heard that those creatures favored the students of the house.

"Not that I know of," Puck said as he gathered his gardening tools. There was something about his tone that suggested he was withholding information. "Listen, kid. All I know of the Barebones is that they've descended from those meddlesome Scourers that plagued this continent back then. Why would you want to know about one of their kids?"

Ryan didn't answer. He had expected Puck to put up less resistance. Back to the books in the library then. He rose from the stool he was sitting on and turned on his heel. "It was nice talking to you," he said, though it wasn't necessarily true. "I'll see you at --"

"Are you going home for Christmas?"

Ryan stopped, unable to answer. While he'd been mulling his decision, the deadline to submit the form for returning home during the Christmas break grew closer. Truthfully, he didn't want to see his father nor his new family but now that he and Will weren't on speaking terms, Ryan wasn't sure anymore. "I'll think about it."

▬▬▬

Apparently club activities would resume after the Christmas break as December was booked with mid-terms exams and revision sessions. This time around, Ryan had been so busy alternating between preparing for the exams and reading up on combative spells that all he ever did was stay in his room to study during his free time. He'd have used the library except that was Will's regular haunt and to avoid the older boy as much as possible, Ryan only went there to borrow and return books.

Piles of previous assignments and exercises were stacked on his desk but there Ryan was with his head down and his eyes closed.  Brendon returned to their room that night, exhausted from listening to Josh blab on about tips for the History of Magic exam when he saw Ryan sleeping. Stifling a yawn, he went to the desk and tapped Ryan's shoulder. "Hey. Hey, wake up." It took him a few tries before Ryan was roused.

"What?" Ryan lifted his head groggily, blinking. "What's going on?" There was a bit of drool dribbling from the side of his mouth, which he wiped off hastily.

"You fell asleep."

"Fuck." Ryan sat up right away, panicked, as he sifted through his notes. He turned to Brendon. "How long was I asleep for?" Brendon shrugged in response and Ryan groaned. "For the love of Merlin, I've wasted so much time!" Ryan lamented.

"Have you eaten?" Brendon asked, changing the subject. He took his place on his bed, smoothing down the creaseless sheets absentmindedly.

"Huh? No, I didn't. I don't have time to eat." Ryan went back to shuffling his notes around, inwardly bemoaning how silly he'd been to let himself fall asleep while studying. "

Brendon regarded Ryan with an expression of concern. It hadn't gone unnoticed by him that Ryan had been skipping meals on some days with the excuse that he needed to study; Brendon couldn't imagine why Ryan needed to push himself so much when he was just as good as some of the top students at Ilvermorny. "You can't live off Puck's tea forever," Brendon pointed out, eyeing some of the empty cups that were pushed aside on his roommate's desk.

"I don't need forever," Ryan said in annoyance, following Brendon's gaze. With a sigh, he pointed his wand at them and casted a spell to make the cups clean up by themselves. "I just need to hold out till the start of Christmas break."

Brendon looked as though he wanted to argue but thought better of it. Without a word, he put on his shoes and left the room. This left Ryan feeling slightly guilty, even though he knew he hadn't said anything he considered rude. Lately it's been like this, with Brendon being too observant for Ryan's preference. It seemed Brendon had forgotten what Ryan said to him, which was not to care about Ryan too much. And Ryan felt he was about to overstep his boundaries.

Minutes after his absence, Brendon returned to the room, carrying something in a bag. "Here." He placed the bag on Ryan's desk and said, "You should eat it before it gets cold."

"You're not my mother, Urie," Ryan responded but then the smell of food from the bag caused his stomach to grumble. His cheeks went red as he averted his eyes from Brendon, his stubbornness failing to cover for him. Releasing a loud sigh, Ryan reached for the bag and opened it, revealing a food container and a small box holding silverware. "Thank you," Ryan muttered.

"Good thing the clockwork cooks were still running," Brendon said, "otherwise --" He broke off when Ryan opened the food container. A shy smile appeared on Brendon's lips. "It's a bento. I saw that you enjoyed eating it for lunch the other day so I thought ..." he trailed off.

"You watched me eat?" There was that frown on Ryan's face that suggested he was disbelieved and unnerved.

Brendon looked away, shrugging. "You were sitting across me. Of course I saw."

Ryan couldn't recall when exactly he had tried eating bento for lunch, much less whether Brendon had been sitting across him that time. His memory couldn't cough up such an image so he decided to leave it to the benefit of doubt. Taking his eyes off Brendon, he looked at his food thoughtfully. Yes, he was hungry but it didn't seem fair to start eating now; Brendon had gone through the trouble of getting this for Ryan and Ryan hated the idea of owing anyone anything. "Do you want some?" he asked hesitantly.

"Huh?" Brendon glanced at the food then at Ryan. "No thanks," he said although Ryan could tell he was lying.

Ryan put the container down and beckoned Brendon over. "Take what you want," he said.

"Oh, but --"

"Are you going to turn down free food?"

Brendon's face had a funny expression as he got up from his bed and pulled up a chair so he could sit next to Ryan at the desk. "Thanks," he mumbled, unable to look at Ryan directly.

"There's too much food for someone like me to finish anyway," Ryan said dismissively. Though his stomach was grumbling in response to the food, he pushed the container towards Brendon. It was only fair, after all, to let Brendon have the first bite for his effort.

"Yeah ... I might've asked the clockwork chefs to be a little more generous."

"Whatever the case, eat up."

Brendon nodded awkwardly and he selected a broccoli while Ryan picked the piece of grilled chicken. No words were exchanged between the two boys as they ate. Once they were finished, Brendon helped Ryan to clear up the desk and put away the empty containers, which would be returned to the kitchens the following day.

"I hope you don't mind if I ask," Brendon said hesitantly, "but why were you reading up on combat spells?" He glanced at the books Ryan had borrowed from the library the day before. There were at least three volumes as thick as their course books and contained at least twice the text in small print, sitting on the floor in a stack.

Ryan looked over at Brendon then away. "I just want to be prepared for the Dueling Club, that's all." It wasn't a complete lie but it wasn't the entire truth either.

Something gleamed in Brendon's eyes. Admiration, perhaps? "You really like spells, don't you?"

Confusion and wariness bloomed on Ryan's expression. "What are you trying to say here?"

"I think it's cool." Brendon gave a sheepish smile. "It'd be pretty handy to know what spell to use in any situation, right?" he added with a small laugh.

There was a cloudy look in Ryan's eyes as he directed his gaze at the spell books. "I guess," he said tonelessly. His hand moved against his volition and he found himself picking up one of the spell books he'd been reading, flipping to the page he last read.

Brendon's smile faltered slightly at Ryan's lukewarm reply. Lips pressed together, he pulled his knees up to his chin and stared at Ryan. Though Brendon's lips were parted like he wanted to speak, hesitation acted as a barrier from allowing his thoughts to be shaped into words. After moments of silence, he forced himself to say, "So, are you going home for Christmas?"

The smooth flow of information from following the line of text stopped. Ryan took his eyes off the book to Brendon's. "Yes." It wasn't some hasty decision Ryan just made or a lie to keep Brendon away. Earlier he had received a letter from Jimmy and Lindsey saying that they'd pay him a visit to celebrate the holiday together. He hadn't seen them since the three of them parted at Platform 9¾. Not even the thought of Will apologizing to Ryan for not supporting his decision to join the Dueling Club could sway Ryan from returning home.

"Oh. Well, that's nice." Brendon nodded awkwardly. Had Ryan been paying more attention, he'd have noticed that was disappointment on Brendon's expression.

▬▬▬

Though the sight of students leaving school for Christmas wasn't a foreign sight to Ryan, the sheer number of people leaving served to remind him of the large student population at Ilvermorny. Only a handful chose to stay for the holiday, including Brendon. The rest were gathered in the Great Hall, waiting to be led to the carriages that would bring them down to the foot of the mountain where they could be reunited with their family.

Ryan was sitting near the Pukwudgie statue, the unofficial assembly point for all Pukwudgie students. His gloved hands clasped tightly around each other, not for the purpose of warming his hands but for comfort. They were shaking anyway. The noise and presence of so many people around him was making him uncomfortable. Every so often, Ryan's dull eyes would dart around and look at the faces around him before glazing over as he drifted back into his thoughts.

The Pukwudgies had taken to patrolling the room, sometimes reminding the students to be on their best behaviors and not to cause trouble. Ryan recognized a few but not all of them. The only Pukwudgie who stood out like a sore thumb was Puck, who was trying to herd a couple of younger students. "C'mon, is this seriously how you young 'uns act these days?" his lamenting tone could somehow be heard over the noise by Ryan. "By the beard of William!" Puck exclaimed when he noticed Ryan watching him.

Excusing himself, Puck pushed his way through the crowd before coming to a stop in front of Ryan. "How are you feeling, kid?" Puck asked.

"Restless." Ryan drew his knees up to his chin and scanned the room once more. He needed to distract himself every so often to prevent his mind from drifting too far.

"Yeah, I kinda relate." Twirling his finger with the end of his scarf, Puck nodded. There were no words exchanged after that. To Ryan, it was surprisingly comforting to have Puck accompany him for a bit, even if they weren't talking. Over the past few months, Puck had become less of an annoyance, who kept insisting on caring for Ryan's wellbeing, and more of someone Ryan would consider as a close friend.

"My friends from Hogwarts will be visiting," Ryan caught himself saying. "Visiting me for Christmas, I mean."

"Oh? Is that why you want to go home?"

Ryan nodded. "It's overwhelming, really. I haven't seen them in awhile." He looked at Puck. "I don't know if I can act normally around them."

Puck chuckled. "It's alright. I feel that way too when I go home in the summer to my village." He ruffled Ryan's hair affectionately. "But I can tell you that whatever you feel now will go away when you see them. Anyway, I gotta go back to work otherwise the higher-ups won't be too happy. Take care of yourself during the break and Happy Christmas, Brit." Without another word, he got up and left.

All too soon, the students were directed to board the carriages. This time, Ryan wasn't so fortunate to have a whole carriage to himself; he had to share with a bunch of rowdy first-years and the ride became perhaps one of the most exhausting experience he had ever had, even though he had done nothing besides sit far away from the children and pretend they didn't exist. Hours dripped by, ignoring Ryan's wishes for it to go faster.

The kids were becoming more restless and one of them broke one of the windows by accident. This gave Ryan a detached form of satisfaction because now the kids seemed to be frantically trying to put Spellotape on the window glass instead of using a Reparo charm. The first-years didn't ask for his help though, thinking he was either asleep or dead and went about arguing amongst themselves until Ryan's patience snapped and he casted a Reparo charm.

" _Honestly_ ," Ryan huffed in annoyance before going back to sitting motionlessly. By the time they reached the foot of Mount Greylock, Ryan didn't hesitate to exit the carriage first.

The first thing he noticed about his surroundings was how amount of snow covering the ground compared to the peak. The layer underfoot was thinner, so his boots didn't sink into the ground as much as it would've had at the peak, but it was slippery. The air wasn't as cold as it was at the peak as well so Ryan slid his earmuffs to hang around his neck. Like everyone else, he made his way carefully to the storage compartment of his carriage to collect his trunk. The kids he'd been riding with earlier were pushy and managed to beat him to the compartment so he had to wait for a bit before it was his turn.

Once he collected his trunk, he went to the waiting area, where George had promised to pick him up. Around Ryan, students were reuniting with their families, exchanging hugs. Ryan felt a tiny pang of longing when he saw a younger boy embracing his mother tightly; it reminded him too much how his life had been before it'd been flipped upside down.

"Hey," said a voice near Ryan. Ryan gave a start and turned to see Brendon, with rosy cheeks and a warm smile.

"Oh, it's you," Ryan breathed, hand on his chest.

"The one and only Brendon Urie," Brendon said with a laugh.

Surprise hit Ryan when he belatedly remembered Brendon was one of the people who had decided to stay in school for Christmas. "Why are you here?" he asked.

Raising his hand, Brendon pointed at someone not too far off from where he and Ryan stood. Ryan couldn't discern who it was but he figured the person was probably one of Brendon's friends. "I wanted to send Dallon off," explained Brendon, confirming Ryan's suspicions. "And to remind him that he has to bring homemade gingerbread cookies when he comes back. His mom makes the best ones I've ever tasted," he added with a dreamy sigh.

Ryan stared at him, distracted by one detail in particular. "I hate to break this to you but you have snot coming out from your nose."

Brendon's eyes widened then he sniffed loudly. "Sorry, it's cold and my nose gets runny." He reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief - the one Ryan had given him - and wiped his nose.

An expression that was halfway between distaste and flattery showed up on Ryan's face, giving it a strangely contorted look. "You kept that?" he asked incredulously.

"Why not?" Brendon put the handkerchief away.

"It's the ugliest handkerchief I've ever had." A crease appeared on Ryan's brow. "It's got that weird fruit pattern on it."

"Excuse you, but those are pineapples." Brendon's face flushed redder than it had been. "Haven't you watched Spongebob?" All he received was a blank look from Ryan so he changed the topic quickly. "Pineapples are tasty."

"I've never had the pleasure of tasting one." Ryan looked around once more, trying to spot George among the throngs of families and students around him. A frown settled on his brow once more but this one had both impatience and concern written all over it. "I can't believe George is late," he mumbled, disgruntled.

"Who's George?"

Before Ryan could answer, he was hit in the face. He let out a cry of shock, barely registering the impact that left a cold stinging sensation on his cheek. Beside him, Brendon had shrieked. Hand moving to his face, Ryan opened his eyes when he came to the realization someone had thrown a snowball at him. "What the hell?" Ryan's voice shook.

"Who threw that?" Brendon demanded, looking wildly around.

Laughs could be heard. Immediately, Ryan's head snapped up at the direction of the laughs. "Who the fuck do you think --" As quickly as he had lost his temper, shock snatched his words from him when he recognized who it was who had thrown the snowball at him.

Standing not too far away from him was both Jimmy and Lindsey, wearing broad grins. Ryan couldn't believe his eyes. He'd been told that they'd be visiting but he hadn't expected them to show up at this instant. Both of them looked the same as always - well, not really, Jimmy seemed to have grown a bit taller.

Jimmy was tossing a snowball in his hand up and down before he passed it to Lindsey. How the cousins managed to scrape up enough snow to make a snowball was a mystery. At the back of Ryan's mind, he remembered Jimmy saying something about throwing objects at someone to get their attention. Needless to say, the cousins had been successful. Jimmy raised a hand and pointed. "Hey, you!" he called out.

"I don't know you!" Brendon responded, sounding shaken.

"Not you!" Lindsey's smile had melted off to show annoyance. "Ryan." At the sound of his name, Ryan was snapped out of his disbelief. His body moved before could think. Bending down, he gathered up as much snow as he could and began to form a ball with his hands. "Ooh, ark at ee!" Ryan could hear Lindsey call out, using that unmistakable Bristolian slang, which pulled his lips into a goofy grin.

As he moved to take aim, a snowball from his friends flew in his direction but missed him a few inches, hitting Brendon who shrieked again. "Take that!" Ryan exclaimed, throwing his snowball. He had better throw than they did but he was so happy to see them he forgot to take aim and ended up hitting Gerard who was passing by.

"Ow, what the fuck!" Gerard yelled, not aware that Ryan had intended to hit Jimmy. "You picked the wrong day to mess with me, Ross!"

" _Get out of the way_!" snapped Lindsey when Gerard moved in her line of sight.

"I  _am_  a Way!"

Things began to build up from there, with random people coming up to join the snowball fight. Someone had bewitched the snow layer to increase, giving everyone a better chance to gather enough snow. Laughter, cusses and snow filled the air, giving the otherwise cold atmosphere a warm and lively feel.

It was the first time in a long time Ryan had ever laughed so hard that his sides hurt. It was the first time he'd been tackled by his friends into a hug that they toppled over and ended up in a heap. It was the first time Brendon had ever seen Ryan so happy.


	16. his friends

There was that uncomfortable prickling feeling at the back of Ryan's head, running down his spine like the touch of spiders to his feet; it was the weight of someone's gaze on him, watching him like a predator stalking its prey.

"Jimmy, can you stop staring at me?" Ryan glanced over his shoulder to see his best friend look away quickly. "You can look at your presents once Christmas is here." From where he stood by the closet where he put Jimmy and Lindsey's gifts safely away, he could see how red Jimmy's ears had become.

"I wasn't staring at you," Jimmy said stubbornly, pretending to admire the moon hanging in the ink black sky with the stars. He had been sitting at Ryan's desk, curiosity piqued at the sight of Ryan's assignments from school, but when he heard Ryan digging through his trunk Jimmy couldn't help but look. "Besides, I know you find yourself attractive but I'm not interested in you."

"Haha." Ryan shut the closet door, satisfied he had gotten unpacking out of the way. Though it had been unnecessary since he'd be returning to Ilvermorny in a couple of weeks, he needed to distract himself.

Since escaping from that snowball fight, the moment he saw George at the parking lot waiting for them was when something jogged in his mind. He had stopped in his tracks abruptly, pulse skipping the same time. His vision had allowed the image of Annalise Barebone to be juxtaposed next to George. Fortunately, he regained his composure before anything else could happen but everything about his mannerisms after became robotlike.

It had been a good thing that Jimmy and Lindsey wanted Ryan to join them in the backseat, despite having three of them would only make the space cramped, because the continuous chatter they kept up managed to keep Ryan from thinking about how his assailant and his father used to be associated in the past.

When they returned, both George and Lucy had been surprised by how productive Ryan became - they had definitely thought they'd have to deal with a mopey, unmotivated and depressed Ryan. If only they knew the reason why he was throwing himself at helping with every household task then maybe they wouldn't be praising him so much.

"Thank you so much for helping," said Lucy when Ryan offered to take out the trash.

Ryan didn't respond immediately but took the trash bag from her and went outside. Stepping outside, he fought the urge to shiver and made his way to the bin. The night was cold albeit tranquil, soft strains of music could be heard from the neighbors whose daughter was practicing the piano. Ryan lifted the lid of the bin and dropped the trash inside, sighing to himself.

He needed to speak to George about Barebone soon, to put his mind at ease. The past weeks of exam stress was gone but they had been preventing him from thinking about the identity of his assailant. Now that he was on vacation, just how long could he keep distracting himself? How much time could he waste before he managed to pluck up the courage to ask George about Annalise Barebone and his association with her?

A rustling noise from bushes nearby snatched him back to reality. Ryan's heart jumped, at first from being startled, but pounded faster than the pace it'd been beating earlier. Without warning, his muscles became taut as though they were preparing his body for something to happen. He whipped around, eyes scanning the bushes for any signs of movements. Strangely enough there was no breeze yet the bushes rustled as though its leaves were stirred by the wind.

Then he realized how dark his surroundings were. Anything could be hiding in the shadows.

A bead of cold sweat broke out on his nape when he saw the bushes rustle again. The duration of his breaths had grown shorter, suffocating him. Every muscle was tense to the point that they refused to obey his will when he tried to reach for his wand in his pocket. He was screaming, inwardly, but his body refused to move the way he wanted. There was more rustling from the bushes and Ryan thought he saw something moving inside. His feet were taking steps back and he could hear his wheezing gasps tearing out of his throat. His pulse was ringing in his ears.

"Ryan?"

Ryan let out a strangled yelp, whipping around to see George staring at him in bewilderment a few feet away. "What're you doing out here in the cold?" George asked.

Eyes wide, Ryan looked at the bushes, which had stopped rustling, then at George. There was an overwhelming urge for him to sob in relief and run at his father for comfort but Ryan's feet remained locked in place. "Nothing." His tone sounded lifeless, contrasting how he felt inside. "I was just taking out the trash."

"Oh." George frowned. "Well, you should come back inside. You might get sick." The fatherly tone he used to speak caused something to stir within Ryan, almost painfully.

"I guess." Side by side, father and son made their way back inside. Despite wanting to say something, Ryan couldn't find the words nor courage to speak to George. In fact, he felt ashamed for some obscure reason as they entered the kitchen through the back door. "Why did you agree to let Jimmy and Lindsey visit me?" he asked.

"Why not?" George's tone was curious as though he couldn't imagine why his son would ask such a question. There was a tender but rueful expression on his face. "Actually ... I personally asked them to come over. It's just - well, I thought it might cheer you up to see them in person." He paused, hesitation laying thick on his silence.

"Thank you." George's eyebrows arched as he turned to look at Ryan, surprised to hear those two words uttered to him from his son. Ryan wasn't looking at him, but at the floor. Ryan had to, otherwise George would only see him crying a little; he didn't even know why he was tearing up. With shame? With gratitude? Really, he appreciated George's efforts but at the same time all he could think of was how he must've worried his father on end, possibly making things a bother for George.

"It's fine." George's voice was slightly uneven. Hesitantly, he placed his hand on his son's shoulder. "And I guess you want to be with your friends rather than listen to your old man now, right?" It hurt a little to hear the note of self-deprecation in his lighthearted words.

Ryan didn't answer but made for the door quickly.

▬▬▬

"Check this spell out," said Lindsey as she waved her wand when colored sparks shot out of the tip, creating a dazzling display of lights that illuminated Ryan's otherwise dark room. Jimmy, Ryan and Peanut watched in awe at the flamboyant lightshow Lindsey had made. "Pretty amazing, right?"

The three teenagers, and Peanut, were seated in a circle on the floor. All of them were way past their bedtime now as the hands of the clock were resting on midnight. Tonight, and perhaps the nights that'd follow in the next few weeks, were exceptions to this unspoken rule. After all, they had spent months away from each other, only communicating through letters, so it was only fair that they'd use every minute they had with each other during the break.

"You're getting better at Charms like these, eh?" commented Ryan, impressed and proud that his best friend had made such a progress.

"Yeah, but only for light shows, am I right?" Jimmy quipped before he earned a swift jab in the side. "Ow! What was that for?" he yelped indignantly.

Ryan watched the cousins strike up a mini-argument whilst stroking Peanut's fur absentmindedly. An idle smile rested on his features but his mind was caught between drifting away and staying rooted in reality. The present reminded him of old times that were filled with laughter and fun, but at the same time he couldn't help but think of how distant into the past those times felt. A pang of nostalgia stabbed his chest, leaving him with a sense of sadness and longing.

"-- what about you, Ryan?"

Stirred back to the present, Ryan raised his gaze blankly at his friends. "Huh?" He stared at his friends. "I'm sorry, what were you asking me?"

Jimmy and Lindsey exchanged looks, something Ryan had once grown accustomed to during his last semester at Hogwarts. "Eh ... about people you, um, fancy," said Lindsey.

"Oh." There was a snicker from Jimmy, which made Ryan's head turn. "What is it?" Ryan asked.

"Oh come on, Lindsey," Jimmy said, patting Ryan's leg. "We all know he fancies Will."

Immediately heat flooded into Ryan's cheeks; a detached part of him was grateful it was too dark to see how red his face had gotten. " _Jimmy!_ " he exclaimed by way of protest and looked away from his friends. He wasn't going to confirm their suspicions (which were true to a certain extent) but at the same time he was reminded of the resistance Will had put up when Ryan expressed interest in joining the Dueling Club.

"It's - it's not really true," Ryan explained himself, terribly in his opinion. "I don't want to think about him right now." Unfortunately, the crack in his voice was mistaken for shyness and hesitation by Jimmy and Lindsey.

Both of his best friends spoke at once. "Okay, what did that knobhead do to you?" demanded Jimmy while Lindsey said, "What happened to Will?" The cousins looked at each other then at Ryan.

"Nothing," Ryan lied then felt guilty because the way he had acted was a dead giveaway. "Fine. It's a long story but to make it short I wanted to join a Dueling Club but Will wasn't very supportive of my decision. Said he didn't want me getting hurt or something," he explained, a strained laugh passing his lips for the sole purpose of lightening the mood. It didn't work although the degree of concern his friends had for him seem to lessen slightly.

A part of him hoped they'd buy this story Ryan had made up because he wasn't prepared to explain how Will had showed him a picture of George and Annalise Barebone, how the latter had attacked him the night he left Bristol and other secrets which he had kept from them all this time. It wasn't because he thought they weren't ready but that he thought the burden of knowledge of his suffering would only trouble them. They'd only get hurt if they knew. Not only that, Ryan believed these secrets he kept within the recesses of his soul was the weight he had to shoulder by himself. He had depended on them enough, whether he had asked them or not.

Fortunately, Ryan's best friends appeared to believe his partially true story. "You? Hurt?" Jimmy echoed with incredulity written all over his face. "That's ridiculous! You're good with spells! And you think fast too."

"And you've got good reflexes," chimed Lindsey. "Obviously, he hasn't seen you much to know you've got good qualities that'll help you in a fight."

Ryan smiled but it was a hollow sort of smile. Had his friends knew how fear had overcome him, allowing Barebone to attack him that night, they wouldn't be acting all defensive on his case, would they? His eyes shifted towards Peanut while his hand went back to stroking her fur to calm himself down. He could feel a squeezing sensation in his chest, the effect of withholding secrets that were meant to be shared to ease his burden. "If you two say so," he murmured under his breath.

"We  _know_  so," said Jimmy and Lindsey simultaneously.

Lips pressed together, Ryan gave an awkward nod of acknowledgement before tucking himself into his sleeping bag. He could've slept on his bed but because it'd been a tradition, of sorts, for the trio to sleep near each other when they slept over at one of their houses. "It's been a long night," he said, lying down and turning so he faced away from his friends.

Compared to other nights they've spent in the past, Ryan turning in at this hour was very early. Even Jimmy and Lindsey thought so too but a silent exchange between them led to the agreement to give Ryan some space. The two of them went to sleep shortly afterwards but it took Ryan longer for his eyelids to slide shut.

▬▬▬

"Lindsey. Lindsey, wake up."

"What?"

"Ryan's talking in his sleep."

"What?"

"Well, actually he's crying."

▬▬▬

The following morning at breakfast, Ryan noticed Jimmy and Lindsey had a subdued energy about them. They were the sort of people who were lively in the morning, no matter how long the slept the night before, as though they drew their energy from the sun. With a frown, Ryan set his spoon down and regarded them for a few moments. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Both Jimmy and Lindsey looked up at him then shared a look. "Just tired," Lindsey replied, turning back to Ryan. "We were too excited to fall asleep last night anyway."

"Yeah," Jimmy chimed, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth. "'Cause we missed you and it's such a - a --" he snapped his fingers, frowning as he tried to think of a word. "It's just like old time's sake, y'know?"

"Huh." It was obvious on Ryan's expression that he wasn't convinced by their explanation. However he didn't want to make them uncomfortable by asking more questions so he went back to eatinh his too-sweet cereal. Once the trio had finished their breakfast, they went about their own businesses. Ryan went to the living room to look for Peanut as he wanted to take a walk to ease his sore muscles (sleeping on the floor kinda hurt).

After he was putting on her leash, he was about to leave the house when Lindsey caught him at the doorway. "Hey, where are you going?" she asked.

"Just a walk," Ryan said with a shrug. "I don't know if George and Lucy let her out earlier today --"

"They did."

"Oh." Ryan glanced at Peanut then at Lindsey. "Anyway, I'll just take her out for a bit."

Lindsey hesitated. "Do you want me to tag along or something?"

Ryan shrugged. "If you want to."

Moments later they were stepping out the house after, coats thrown hastily over themselves as cold winds whipped at their cheeks, turning them rosy in no time. Ryan wasn't familiar with the layout of the neighborhood except for the route to the park and back. No words were exchanged between Ryan and Lindsey as they walked, only the sound of Peanut's paws on the sidewalk.

"You were ... crying last night," Lindsey said once they reached the park, which was devoid of people at the moment save for the two of them.

Eyebrows furrowed together, Ryan looked to Lindsey. "What?" It wasn't that he hadn't heard her properly, in fact, her words were quite clear, except that he wanted to ascertain whether what he heard was correct. This wasn't the first time he'd heard anyone say to him; Brendon had to, but at that time Ryan had told him to mind his own business instead of explaining. That had been easier since Brendon was a complete stranger and Ryan had an excuse not to talk about himself. However now his best friend was telling him the same words, he didn't have the same privileges.

Lindsey's lips pressed together. "It's just ... Jimmy and I are worried for you. Well, we have been ever since your mother passed away." She looked to Ryan warily; it was hard to tell with Ryan lately as he had become better at hiding emotions with a blank face, at least until they cracked and spilled out of his mask. But Ryan's expression hadn't changed, yet, so she continued speaking carefully. "Sometimes we feel like you're holding something back. Something that eats you up from inside."

A mirthless laugh escaped from Ryan's throat. "It's nothing." He knew the lie was feeble, unconvincing, but it was all he could think of. "The both of you have  _other_  important things to worry about. Like school and --"

" _You're_  important to us," Lindsey whispered, stopping Ryan in mid-sentence. "Ryan, you can't keep it all to yourself. You'll only end up hurting yourself."

"Lindsey --"

"Who's Annalise Barebone?"

Before Ryan could answer, Peanut barked loudly all of a sudden. The dog was crouching, ears laid back against her head, fangd bared, hackles raised. Peanut was growling, a low rumbling sound, at a clump of bushes that rustled ever so slightly, despite the absence of breeze. Somewhere in his mind he remembered being told animals could see things humans can't, and then a switch in his brain flipped.

His thoughts came in flashes. He remembered how something similar had happened the night before, how the bushes had rustled even though there was no wind. At that time it was dark, lending an advantage to whatever was hiding there. Now it was broad daylight so it wasn't possible for anything be concealed in the leaves and move like that without visibly revealing itself.  _Or was it?_  asked a tiny voice in Ryan's head.

The hairs of Ryan's nape began to stand on end. His pulse quickened and his chest began to constrict. Eyes wide, he found himself backing away.. "We have to go," he breathed.

"What?"

Ryan didn't pause to answer, instead seized Lindsey by the wrist, tugged the leash to let Peanut know they were leaving, before he sped-walk the hell out of the park. His ears were ringing loudly, causing the words Lindsey were saying to lose their clarity. His pace didn't falter, neither did his grip, until Lindsey yanked her wrist out of his hand.

"The  _bloody_ _hell_ was that all about?" Lindsey demanded but her voice had quavered.

Ryan turned on her, a wild light shining in his eyes. He was breathing heavily, hands shaking slightly at the sides. He wasn't looking at Lindsey though, instead past her at the park. He had expected something to pursue them but to his short-lived relief, nothing did.

"Ryan!"

" _What?_ " Ryan snapped, turning on Lindsey.

She stepped back in surprise momentarily when her eyebrows furrowed. "W-what was  _that_  about?"

Ryan was about to answer when he stopped himself. "I don't know." The words choked out past his tight throat. Though he had his fists balled at his sides to stop them from shaking, the tremulation had spread to his body. "I really don't know." Pressure built up at the backs of his eyes, an indication of the onset of tears.

"Ryan --"

"She's out there, Lindsey," Ryan continued shakily. "I don't know where but I know she's out there. I know she came for my mother and look what happened! I'll be next --"

"Ryan, breathe --"

"-- and I won't be lucky this time --" Suddenly Ryan found his face whipping to the side, pain flaring up on his cheek. Hand flying to the affected area, he stared at Lindsey with wide eyes. The grim look on her face changed to an apologetic.

"I didn't mean to slap you," Lindsey said, "but it was all I could think of to snap you out of it."

Ryan stared at her.

Suddenly Lindsey's eyes watered and then she was pulling him roughly into a tight hug. "I don't know what's bothering you," she said, voice thick with emotion, "or who haunts your dreams at night, but I swear whoever did this to you  _will pay_. Jimmy would say the same if he were here." She pulled back, looking at Ryan with a fierce light burning in her eyes.

Ryan wanted to say something, anything to pull out that ridiculous idea out of her head. He couldn't afford to involve one of his best friends in this, much less bear the thought of losing them. Yet he found himself wrapping his arms around her and leaning his head on her shoulder, eyes closed while his tears stained her shoulder. "Thank you."


	17. back to ilvermorny

Ryan knew he had no reason to feel uneasy however the sight of crowds clogging up Nightingale's Lane was enough to make him feel as though he needed to be on constant vigilance. He was now in a souvenir shop that doubles as knick-knack store, which was less stressful than being outside in the streets where there were more people, however he wasn't able to let his mind drift off so that he could browse with ease. Every movement from the corner of his eye or a tiny sound would cause him to look up every and inspect his surroundings.

All Ryan wanted to do was to get out of here and return to his room but he didn't want to spoil the mood for everyone. Besides, he was the one who suggested to show Jimmy and Lindsey around - despite having little knowledge of the place - so that they wouldn't be bored with being cooped up in the house all holiday. Unable to find his interest piqued at the dancing penguin in a snow globe, Ryan walked over to where Jimmy was eyeing figurines which could supposedly do tasks for you if you inscribed a specific rune on their forehead.

"Eh, this looks like a cheap knock-off from the authentic  _shabtis_  from Egypt," opined Jimmy when Ryan stood beside him. Holding up one of the figurines, Jimmy held it out for Ryan for inspection as though Ryan could tell the difference, which he couldn't. "You okay there?"

"Yeah," Ryan said, putting the knock-off shabti back on the shelf. He kept his eyes carefully averted from Jimmy's to avoid any more awkward questions - this little outing wasn't about him, it was for his friends. To throw Jimmy off, Ryan asked, "What are shabtis?" To his relief, Jimmy's face lit up, a sure sign that he was delighted that someone was taking interest in a bit of his knowledge. While Jimmy blabbed on about how shabtis were figurines Egyptian wizards used and doubled as helpers for the dead in the afterlife, Ryan was already scanning the store for Lindsey.

" _Shabtis_  are usually crafted to be deformed in some manner like, for example, without legs or arms, so they don't kill their owners," Jimmy explained, not aware they were drifting away from the fake  _shabti_  shelf. "But I really want one because apparently you can use them to answer questions and I was hoping I could smuggle one into Hogwarts for, y'know, homework help."

"Ah, that's smart."

"I know, right?" Jimmy puffed out his chest in pride. "I'd be able to ace my tests if I had one of those."

They found Lindsey in the section where tourist shirts were displayed. There was already a basket full of things she had picked out sitting next to her. Ryan eyed it skeptically, wondering how she'd be able to pay for them later because that looked like a lot of things she was planning to buy. "Look, Ryan, I found you something," said Lindsey when she passed him something from the basket. It turned out to be a mug with the words  _Bestest Friend in The Entire World_.

Ryan couldn't help but feel both flattered and mildly appalled that a souvenir store would sell something as tacky as this. "Thanks, I guess."

"Is there a  _Best Cousin in The Entire World_  mug?" inquired Jimmy blatantly.

While Lindsey showed the two boys what she had found, Ryan's attention began to drift once more. At first he thought he saw someone familiar out the window but then his attention was snatched again when the bell by the door jingled to tell the shopkeepers there was another customer. Frowning, he stood there with his arms cross, appearing to glare at every person in the store when, in actuality, he was arguing with himself inwardly to stop being on edge when something caught his eye.

"Honestly, Lindsey, how much money did you make from selling those tarts at the Hogwarts Bake sale --" Jimmy broke off when he realized Ryan was no longer standing beside him. "Wait, where the bloody hell did he go?"

Lindsey had also just noticed Ryan's absence and was frowning as well. "We are  _such_  terrible friends!" The two of them began standing on their tiptoes and scanning the store to see if they could spot Ryan but then more and more people were coming into the shop and walking about, distracting their eyes.

"Sometimes I think he's part ninja - Never mind, he's over there." Taking Lindsey's basket in hand, Jimmy walked over to the aisle where Ryan was lurking at with his cousin following after him. "We've only looked away for thirty seconds and --"

"There's this person at school," Ryan cut Jimmy off in midsentence, "whom I gave my handkerchief to, the one with weird fruit on it."

"The pineapple one?" asked Lindsey as she peered at what Ryan was holding.

"Yeah and I was wondering if I should buy him a set of these," Ryan said, showing his friends the handkerchiefs in his hand, "since I've never seen him use any other handkerchiefs."

"I think that's a thoughtful gift," said Lindsey, "but please don't sneak off like that, you had us both scared for a moment!"

▬▬▬

"Ah, you shouldn't have!" exclaimed Jimmy although he was shocked that George and Lucy had gone through the liberty of getting him a traditionally ugly pullover for Christmas. Bearing a smile that appeared more of a grimace, Jimmy wore the pullover and let out a strained chuckle. "Oh, it fits!"

"Don't you look dashing!" Lucy gushed, admiring the pullover on Jimmy as though it was a work of art.

"I can't tell if that was sarcasm or she's naturally sadistic. The jumpers are horrible," Lindsey whispered so that only Ryan could hear her while watching Jimmy pretend to like Lucy's gift. Like her cousin, she had also gotten an ugly pullover that was reindeer-patterned, however it didn't look half bad with her wearing it.

After dinner, George had gathered everyone around in the living room so they could experience Christmas together as a family, unknowingly causing Ryan to almost choke on his roast turkey. Though the teenagers would rather be elsewhere, they were forced to bear with the whole thing for the sake of the adults. Had it not been for his friends putting up their best, though fake, behavior, Ryan would've made some excuse that he was having a terrible headache and retreat to his room. With an antler headband on his head, Ryan had taken his friends' example and put on a facade of enjoying himself.

"Me too," he told Lindsey and resisted the urge to sigh. He only had to last till tomorrow, when his friends would be returning to their families, before he could return to Ilvermorny - he had sought permission from the Headmaster to return early. While he appreciated they were less intrusive than before there was something about this house that made him feel like he was the one intruding. Even with time he spent here last summer, the feeling of having an estranged father only to have them suddenly care for you was something Ryan knew he wouldn't be able to get used to so easily.

Though the prospect of being able to leave this house for at least a couple more months was something Ryan would enjoy, he knew that his window of opportunity to ask George about that Barebone woman was growing smaller. Before the Christmas break, Ryan had been certain he'd be able to get an answer out of George prior to his return to school. Had he not been making excuses that his friends were here and he needed to spend time with them he wouldn't have ended up worrying that about not having an explanation from his father.

At some point, the household ended up watching some cheesy Christmas movie with a predictable plot and terrible characters for the sake of bonding as a family. Honestly, Ryan didn't know how his friends could manage though he suspected they probably had gone through the same thing every year and were probably used to it. Ryan was unable to resist the urge to slouch so he gradually slid off the couch out of boredom and sat on the floor with Peanut's head resting on his lap. To keep himself distracted from checking the wall clock every two minutes, he stroked Peanut's fur.

Just as he was about to escape to the kitchen and probably stay there to stare at food, he saw George get up from the couch from the corner of his eye. Ryan's body moved on its own accord when he realized he was following George out of the living room and into the corridor. "George," he called out before the man could enter the bathroom. "There's something I wanna talk to you --"

"Gimme a sec, Ryan. This old bladder can't hold itself much longer." Standing there in the corridor, Ryan waited until George was finished doing his business. "I'm sorry, what was it you wanted to talk about?" George asked.

Ryan knew what he wanted to question George about; he could do it in his sleep as well, for all the times he had rehearsed in the bathroom facing the mirror. However when he opened his mouth, all the words he wanted to say disappeared, leaving him struggling. "I --" Ryan wanted to scream at himself.

As Ryan was stalling, George arched his eyebrows. "Is it about school?"

"Yes." Ryan frowned slightly. "Kind of."

"Go on."

"There's this club I just joined --"

"That's great!" It annoyed Ryan how George was so quick to respond when all he wanted was his father to listen to him. "Which club?"

"The Dueling Club." Ryan could his muscles tensing up on their own volition as though they were anticipating some kind of sudden reaction out of George that required their effort. Nothing of that sort happened although that subtle shift in George's expression hadn't gone unnoticed by Ryan.

"Ah, I see," said George, sounding less enthusiastic. "Was that the only club you joined?"

Ryan nodded, pressing his lips together. His heart was thumping so hard in his chest like he had run a whole marathon. Again, his tongue betrayed him, refusing to shape the name he wanted to speak - Annalise Barebone. "I saw the trophy room, or something, with one of my friends," he said instead.

George looked slightly embarrassed. "Oh, you must've seen my pictures, haven't you?" An awkward laugh escaped him. "That time was admittedly the time when I had the worst hairstyle ever. For seven years," he added. Ryan couldn't bring himself to care about what George's hair had looked like, much less whether it didn't suited George or not. Even if he could, it wasn't like that detail was relevant anyway.

"There was a girl, wasn't there?"

"Ryan, there are a lot of girls in Ilvermorny. Which girl are you talking about?"

"The one in the Dueling club: Annalise Barebone." There was a tiny swell of triumph for being able to speak her name however that feeling was quickly snuffed out by dread and worry when there was an obvious change in George's mood. "George," he pleaded. "Who is she?"

"She's ... someone I used to know. A school sweetheart but there wasn't anything more than that. Why are you so interested in her?" The evasive way George answered made Ryan's chest to tighten with anger and disbelief; it was almost like an insult. Not only that, George's question sounded as though he was belittling Ryan.

"She's a criminal, George," Ryan growled.

"I'm aware of that," said George slowly.

"Did you know," Ryan continued, the sound of his voice shaking becoming more obvious with each word, "that she was the woman who attacked me that night?" George didn't say anything in response to that. "That cunt killed Mum --"

"Language," George chided.

"My language is the least of my  _bloody_  concerns!" Ryan exclaimed furiously, face flushed. "That crazy woman did something to Mum and you know what  _happened_. Barebone came after me when we went back to our - my - home in Bristol!"

"Ryan," began George gently, placing his hands on Ryan's shoulders attempts to placate him. "Breathe."

Ryan shrugged his father's hands off, blinking hard. He hadn't been aware tears were sliding down his cheeks. "You knew her, that - that Barebone bitch. Why was she after Mum and w-what does she want to do with me?" He wiped the back of his hand roughly against his cheeks. "I don't even  _know_  her."

There was a sad look on George's face as he regarded his son. At his sides, his hands twitched slightly with the urge to embrace his son. Sure, he hasn't been the best father and he knew for a fact that he was one of the last people Ryan wanted to associate with. But that didn't stop the paternal instinct in him from urging him to comfort his son and try to make it up to Ryan. However there were things he couldn't yet tell Ryan, things he was certain Ryan wouldn't understand fully.

"She was one of the best students Ilvermorny has ever had," George began, "but there was a certain quality about her that set her apart from the best. We had a thing back then, when we were in the sixth year." He sighed. "But we broke it off when school ended and --"

"Is everything okay?" Lucy had just entered the corridor with concern on her features. Never had Ryan wanted to scream at her for interrupting than he did now. "I heard shouting," she added, eyes drifting to a crying Ryan. There it was, that look of pity on her face, the kind that Ryan couldn't stand when it was directed at him.

"It's nothing," said Ryan, too frustrated with the adults to care.

The tension between father and son worsened after that exchange, which dragged on till the morning. Though George had made tiny efforts to get Ryan to speak, it was clear that his son was both upset and disappointed in him through the silent treatment he was receiving. None of the other people in the household made any comment regarding this matter although anyone could see that the tension was causing everyone to feel uncomfortable.

Jimmy and Lindsey had left for Italy, where their families were located to celebrate Christmas, that morning by Portkey. Both of them had spent at least ten minutes prior to their departure fussing over Ryan and reminding him to take care of himself, that they loved him and whatnot when they all hugged one another.

"We might be able to visit during the summer," Jimmy had said, "but we're not sure if we can stay the whole season --"

"It's fine." Ryan had shaken his head. "You don't have to go the extra mile for me."

"Oh don't be silly," Lindsey had scoffed, brushing off a speck of dust off Ryan's shoulder. "We have to visit you."

"Don't you two have friends other than me?" Ryan couldn't help but say.

"What friends?" Jimmy had responded while Lindsey snickered. "Friends? I only know Ryan Ross."

"Yeah, okay whatever." That little comment had managed to make the corners of Ryan's lips curve up a little. After watching his best friends disappear after coming in contact with the Portkey George had set up for them, Ryan spared no time getting ready to leave for Ilvermorny. Fortunately he wouldn't have to spend an awkward car ride to Mount Greylock with George, who had an important work matter to attend to; Lucy would be driving him there.

There was just one concern though. "Are you sure you know the way to Stewardsmark? The place where you'll have to drop me off, I mean," Ryan said in a skeptical manner as he buckled on his seatbelt. "Muggles can't see it."

"Did you assume I was a Muggle - or No-Maj?" Lucy asked; she sounded curious rather than offended.

Ryan shrugged. "I've never seen you do magic, so yes."

Lucy shook her head. "Don't judge a book by its cover." That was all she said on their way to Mount Greylock.

▬▬▬

"Congratulations, kid," greeted Puck when he met Ryan at the great wrought-iron gates of the campus.

Ryan was panting, sweating uncomfortably under the thick layer of his clothes, from the hike up the school grounds. Apparently the carriage service only ran from Stewardsmark to Bootshaven but not from the latter to Ilvermorny so he had to complete his journey by foot. It was a good thing he had learned a simple levitation charm so he didn't have to lug his trunk all the way up although the effort he had to put in to concentrate on keeping his trunk afloat and not slip and crash down the slope left him feeling physically and mentally exhausted.

Too spent to retort, Ryan simply entered the school grounds with the Pukwudgie, the thoughts of a warm bed and delicious food waiting for him kept him going. They passed by the deserted hallways; had Ryan had his energy he would've felt creeped out by how quiet the school was without its students. Sure, it was the same thing at Hogwarts but he'd gotten used to the sight of seeing students here and there wherever he went.

"Not a lot of students stayed back this year," said Puck as they made their way down the path to the greenhouses. "But this year's batch is as rowdy as ever so it doesn't really make a difference."

Everything was covered with a layer of snow, unlike in Lexington where everything looked dead. There were footprints, human ones, on the path although the tracks didn't appear recent. After uttering the password to the old toolshed, Puck opened the door for Ryan, then said, "Eh, watch out for the enchanted mistletoe circles."

"The what?"

"Ryan?"

Turning his head, Ryan saw a group of students of mixed years and houses seated together in a circle on the floor. The one who had called him was none other than Brendon, surprised to find Ryan standing at the door. Clearing his throat, Brendon's eyebrows furrowed together as he left the circle and walked over to Ryan. "You didn't tell me you were coming back," he said.

Ryan shrugged, frowning. "I don't have to tell you anything." Then he paused, remembering something he had packed away in his trunk. Lips folding together, Ryan averted his gaze and made for his room. For some odd reason, his heart was beating fast although there wasn't any logical reason for it to do so. There was a tiny pang in his chest when he made to his dorm only to realize that he hadn't hear footsteps following him. He forced down it, chiding himself inwardly for feeling this way.

Once inside his room, Ryan shrugged off his coat and tossed it onto the floor. Normally he didn't approve of this behavior but since he was alone, he had the opportunity not to have Brendon squawking at him in excitement. Opening his trunk, Ryan reached for the box of handkerchiefs he had gotten from that store, wrapped in gift paper, and stood up. For a moment he stood there, staring down at the box while blood roared in his ears and flushed his skin. He wasn't aware that he was shaking slightly.

Then he placed the box on Brendon's bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point i'm convinced i suck at naming chapters


	18. hankies and duel practice

"You should have told me you were getting me something for Christmas!" Brendon was saying, flustered. In his hands was the gift Ryan had gotten him, its wrappings still intact.

Ryan had been planning to take a nap, as his bed was warm and inviting, when Brendon came into the room to check on him. As per tradition, Ryan had ignored him but that became difficult when Brendon took one look at the bed and made this inhuman noise at the back of his throat. Bewildered, Ryan's eyes had opened to find Brendon gawking at the gift, as though he had never seen one before, when Brendon swiveled on his heel and faced him.

"Look, if you don't want it, you can just give it back," Ryan said, exasperated and bemused as to why Brendon was making this such a big deal. "Besides, I saw it and I thought of you --"

Brendon's face went bright red.

"-- and don't expect anything fancy," continued Ryan, unaware of the change in Brendon's expression.

"I love it," Brendon blurted.

There was a skeptical look on Ryan's face. "You haven't even opened it," he couldn't help but point out, baffled. Then worry and fear seized him. "Wait, why are you crying?"

Tiny laughs bubbled from Brendon as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand; there was a broad grin on his face. Sniffing, he smiled down at the present then at Ryan. He shook his head. "Nothing, it's --" He broke off, looking back at the box in his hands. "I didn't think you'd get me anything. But thank you, oh my lord, thank you."

This wasn't the first time Ryan found himself unable to say anything that was sarcastic to Brendon though he didn't mind it. Instead, something stirred within him as he watched Brendon rip the wrapping paper open to reveal the handkerchief set in it. It was a strange feeling, a mix of nervousness and excitement, even though it wasn't him who wad receiving the gift. Brendon's expression lit up, a huge grin breaking across his features. Ryan could feel himself relax with relief.

"Dude, this is so cool!" Brendon exclaimed, holding up the box. "They're fruit-patterned!" He sounded incredulously amused. Happiness was radiating off from him; it was almost contagious. Ryan turned his head to the side so Brendon wouldn't see how much he was struggling not to smile.

"I feel bad now," said Brendon, his tone changing. "Because I haven't gotten you anything." There was a childish pout on his face, which reminded Ryan of when Peanut was upset about her chew toys being taken to be washed.

Ryan's heart squeezed in his chest for some odd reason. "It's not a big deal." He shrugged. "I ... don't really like getting presents if they're not practical."

"Meaning?" Brendon was puzzled.

"Like snow globes, for example. They're pretty to look at but I don't see any practical uses for them," Ryan said.

"Yeah, but you could use it as a weapon." Brendon flushed when he received a disbelieving from from Ryan. "You could throw it at someone!"

"Why would I throw a snow globe at anyone?"

"Good point," Brendon acknowledged, changing his mind. He pressed his lips together. "You sure there isn't anything you want?" Ryan shook his head in response. A pout found its way onto Brendon's face; it made Ryan feel a bit guilty. "Well, okay," said Brendon ruefully, "but tell me if there's anything you want me to get for you."

Ryan couldn't think of anything he wanted from Brendon. Yet.

▬▬▬

As the days passed leading up the end of the break, Ryan often found himself in zoning out, sometimes from boredom but mostly for reasons he couldn't explain himself. Although he knew detaching himself from reality wasn't a good way to spend the holidays, he couldn't help it. There had been a few instances when his mind drifted, only to be reeled back in when someone - usually Brendon - called his name or tapped his arm. This hadn't been much of a concern except when he slipped on the stone steps after dinner and fell.

"Kid, you really need to be careful! You know how slippery it can get in winter," Puck chided though he was more concerned than exasperated. For some reason, sitting in the bathroom while Puck was administering the scrape on Ryan's elbow with a pulp of a plant, reminded Ryan of how his mother would take care of him when he hurt himself. His chest ached with the familiarity of this situation.

"I'm sorry," Ryan answered quietly, trying not to wince when Puck checked the bruises left from the fall. "I didn't mean to be a burden to look after."

Raising his gaze to Ryan, Puck sighed. He placed his clawed hand on Ryan's head gently and said, "You're not a burden, Ryan. I'm just worried for you." He wiped a tear that had escaped Ryan's eye, shaking his head. "Try to be careful next time, okay?" A knock on the door caused both Puck and Ryan to turn their heads. "Yes, what is it?" he said to Brendon who was leaning on the doorjamb, peering curiously.

"Nothing," said Brendom though he was staring at Ryan. "Ryan, how are you feeling?"

Ryan wiped his face with his sleeve hastily and looked away. "Fine," he replied tonelessly as Puck handed him a salve for his bruises. Curiously, Ryan sniffed it but gagged at its pungent scent; he wondered whether it was already spoiled or it naturally smelled that way. He made a mental note to use it minimally.

"Get some rest, you two," said Puck as he left the room to the two boys. "Good night."

"Good night, Puck," both boys chorused.

The two boys then regarded each other for a few moments, acknowledging their presences when Brendon cleared his throat and brought out something he'd been hiding behind his back. It turned out to be a small food container. "So, I went to the kitchen earlier," began Brendon as Ryan stepped out of the bathroom, "and asked if they had any pineapples." He handed Ryan the container.

Ryan was surprised by the gesture. "Oh," he responded, "thank you."

Brendon gave a small smile. "I thought, y'know, it might make you feel better."

Ryan's cheeks heated with embarrassment. He looked down at the container then at Brendon before returning his gaze to the container. The lid was made of translucent blue plastic, allowing him to see yellow chunks of fruit inside. He moved to put the salve on his desk before taking a seat. Opening the container, he was about to help himself when he remembered. "Here," he offered Brendon some. "Just humor me," he requested when Brendon began to protest.

Awkwardly, Brendon drew his chair up next to Ryan and sat down. "Pineapples are my favorite," he said though Ryan didn't recall asking. "So I was ... really happy when you gave me your pineapple-patterned hanky," he added, sounding a bit breathless.

"You're welcome." Ryan frowned, popping a chunk of pineapple in his mouth. The taste of the fruit had a nicely balanced mix between sweet and sour, which Ryan found instantly appealing. He popped another chunk in his mouth, savoring the taste when he noticed Brendon grinning in a silly way at him. "What?" Ryan asked defensively, heat creeping up his skin.

"Nothing." Brendon tried to suppress his smile. "It's just - well, fun fact, pineapples are good for you if you happen to eat a lot of meat because it has enzymes to help you digest protein better." When met with a blank stare from Ryan, Brendon's cheeks colored visibly. Doubt shadowed the confidence in him. "I mean, that is correct, right?"

"I don't know," admitted Ryan, shaking his head. He took the last chunk of pineapple - okay, so he had been eating them faster than Brendon did.

"You don't?"

"If it's something you've learned from Muggle education, I'm afraid I'm not familiar with those ... terms you used."

Brendon frowned at him, confused, when he caught on to what Ryan meant. "Ah, right, Muggles. It's what the British wizards call the No-Majs," he mumbled to no one in particular. "So, how were you educated before going to Hogwarts?"

"My mother taught me how to read and write," Ryan answered. There was a small pang of longing and nostalgia when images of his mother reading a book to him when he was a young child filled his mind. Lashes veiled his eyes as he looked away. "But as I got older, I was tutored privately."

"I see."

"But," Ryan began, curiosity revealing itself in his tone, "what are proteins and enzymes?"

"Proteins help you grow and build muscles," Brendon explained, gesturing as he did, "and enzymes are chemicals - or stuff - your body makes, I think, to help your body digest food better."

"Interesting." Ryan was impressed; a part of him felt guilty for believing all this time that Brendon was an airhead even though Brendon did act the part most of the time. Pressing his lips together, he was about to reach into the container when he remembered he ate the last pineapple chunk. Sighing, he closed it and placed it on the table.

Brendon glanced at him. There was that look he was wearing, the kind Ryan noticed he often wore when speaking to Ryan; eyes turning towards Ryan for a fleeting moment before turning away, with pressed lips and a tensed jaw. "Um, so I heard you joined the Dueling Club."

Arching his eyebrows, Ryan stared at Brendon. After what Will had said to him, it wasn't unusual that he'd feel suspicious of anyone he knew at Ilvermorny bringing up this topic. Apprehension whispered at the back of his mind. Had Will told Brendon about why Ryan shouldn't be joining the club? Ryan hoped he didn't because he really wanted to give Will a second chance. "What about me joining the Dueling Club?" he asked, with a slight edge to his voice.

Brendon appeared not to have noticed it; if he did, he was doing a good job at concealing his awareness. He pointed at the stack of books on Ryan's desk. "You kinda forgot to return them before leaving so I thought I'd extend the borrowing period with the librarian - anyway, those books have combative spells that are beyond our level."

"What about them?" Ryan tensed. His brain began to run through its list of plausible reasons to explain why he was reading up on advanced spell without revealing too much. Anything that wouldn't leave any doubt or cause questions to arise. Maybe Ryan  _had_  grown somewhat tolerant of Brendon than he used to be but he wasn't going to reveal everything about himself to some  _boy_  he'd be sharing the same room with for the next several years. Besides, if Brendon was going to ask him any difficult questions then Ryan knew what the drill --

"I think it's cool," said Brendon, effectively cutting into Ryan's thoughts. There was a look of admiration and respect in his gaze. "That you're taking this seriously, I mean. Most people I know who are joining this are doing it for fun and don't actually think that they'd need it for the future," he explained. "Which I think is kinda silly. Sure, the country's relatively safe at the moment but you never know when you need to cast a good hex to defend yourself."

Ryan stared at him in mild bafflement. He didn't know what to feel about what was spouting out of Brendon's mouth or whether he should just let Brendon ramble on. _If only you knew_ , Ryan thought,  _why I was joining this club you_ _wouldn_ _'t think I was cool_.

"By the way," continued Brendon, unaware that Ryan hadn't been listening to half of what he'd been saying earlier, "I've joined the Dueling Club too."

"What?"

Brendon beamed proudly. "Because I think learning how to protect yourself is a helpful skill." He paused, suddenly looking embarrassed. "Actually, I'm considering becoming an Auror as a career option besides teaching at Ilvermorny and working at MACUSA." He smiled at Ryan. "Since you and I are in the club I thought we could probably try practicing those spells together."

"You do realize some of these spells are lethal, right?" Ryan asked slowly.

"Oh, we could practice on some dummies," Brendon suggested. "Not me, I mean, but Will told me he found some useful sparring dummies on the third floor next to the Professor Alistair's D.A.D.A classroom we could use." Ryan didn't know if he should thank Brendon or turn down the offer. He preferred the idea of practicing alone although he remembered Jimmy telling him that teaching others was a good way of reinforcing what you've learned.

"It's getting late," Ryan said instead, rising from his chair. Brendon's face fell. "But," Ryan said over his shoulder as he went to the bathroom, "we'll practice tomorrow. Starting with the basics."

Though Ryan didn't see, he knew Brendon's face had lit up again. And that sent a funny little feeling in his insides.

▬▬▬

Ryan awoke in the middle of the night with cold sweat breaking out on his skin. His breaths were coming out heavy as though he'd been running and his body was stiff from the fear his nightmares had instilled him. Though they hadn't been as intense, there was a certain element in each recurring dream that never failed to make him wake up with heart palpitations and breathlessness. This time, he had dreamt of Annalise Barebone's disembodied voice following him everywhere he went, gleefully threatening to kill him and those he loved.

Eyes barely adjusted to the darkness, Ryan reached for his wand from under his pillow and uttered "Lumos." Light emitted from his wand, illuminating the room. Bringing the back of his hand across his clammy forehead, he kicked off his covers and padded towards the bathroom, not wanting to wake Brendon. Turning the faucet on, he splashed water on his face and tried to tell himself he was safe here in Ilvermorny. There'd be no menacing things in the dark to jump at him as the school's grounds were protected with powerful wards. There'd be someone who'd hear him if he shouted for help. There was no way Annalise Barebone could get her arse in here.

Then Ryan thought he'd heard it. The faint sound of someone cackling, so quiet that he told himself he must've been imagining things. Quickly, he stepped out of the bathroom and charmed the tiny sconces on his side of the room to light up but remain dim enough not to wake Brendon.

He took a seat at his desk with the intention of writing a letter. He pulled his drawer open. Parchment was something the school didn't use anymore but he still had some leftover from his days at Hogwarts. However they were only to be used  for writing to friends. This time he wasn't planning to write to Jimmy or Lindsey. He wanted to write to George.

Taking a pen - it was a shame Ilvermorny also didn't require students to use a quill - he began to scribble a draft for his letter. The general idea was to implore George for information - Ryan thought it was also a brilliant idea since this'd be as private as it'd get so it was definitely a good chance to explain something personal. However, he needed to make it subtle and not appear as though he was demanding George to spit everything out. He should also throw in something to appeal to George's sentimental side to increase his chances. It wouldn't hurt to try, right? Anything to help Ryan know his enemy better; there'd be no feelings of shame for him in using underhand techniques.

But the more he wrote on his draft, the less ideal the whole thing appeared, causing him to scrap the drafts until there was a pile of crumpled paper sitting next to his right hand. Frustrated, he dropped his pen on the desk and raked his hands through his hair. Nothing he wrote corresponded to what he had in mind.

"Couldn't sleep?" Ryan's heart did a slow flip in his chest as his head swiveled to see Brendon regarding him with a half-lidded gaze. The other boy's hair was sticking up in random directions from his usual case of bedhead.

"I was just --" Ryan blinked hard to rid his eyes of the tiny amount of tears of frustration. "Just making plans for the practice," he lied.

"Oh." Brendon sounded skeptical although he didn't ask. Pulling himself up so he was sitting properly, he checked the clock on their nightstand then turned his gaze to Ryan. "I had a nightmare," he stated, "and I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep again."

"Okay." Suddenly Ryan didn't feel like writing to George anymore. There was no way he could, unless he could knock Brendon out with a Stupefy charm although as appealing as the idea was Brendon wouldn't appreciate it. After dimming the sconces, Ryan climbed into bed and pulled the sheets over him. He heard Brendon's covers shift; from the corner of his eye, he could see Brendon was facing him. "What?"

"Is there ... anyone you fancy?" Brendon asked hesitantly.

Ryan frowned then turned his face towards Brendon. "Pardon?" He could feel his insides tightening defensively. "No. I don't fancy anyone." Contrary to his words, images of Will came floating in his head when he banished them away quickly. "Why?"

"Dunno," Brendon mumbled. "Lately my friends keep talking about who they're having crushes on and who they want to be with or something. It's a lot, honestly. I've heard one of them suggesting using love potions to help them out --" His thoughtful expression shifted to curiosity when he heard Ryan scoff.

"Love potions?" There was a cynical edge to Ryan's tone. "Those are worthless. They only cause obsession, not real love. Besides, what good is it to use a potion to make someone like you? Don't you think it isn't fair for that someone to be made to feel that way against their will?"

Brendon opened his mouth then closed it. "You're right," he said after a pause. "It  _is_  stupid."

Ryan nodded. "If you want someone, do it the right way," he said. "But if they don't want you back then so be it. Not worth chasing after something you can't have, right?"

"Y-Yeah, I guess." Brendon turned onto his back. He stared at the ceiling, tight-lipped, while absorbing the silence in their conversation. "Anyway, good talk," he said, letting out a small laugh. "I'll try to sleep for a bit."

"Mm."

Brendon turned once more, this time away from Ryan and buried his face in his pillow.

▬▬▬

"We'll just stay here till lunch or until we get better at the spells we'll be practicing today," said Ryan as they entered the room where Brendon said there'd be dummies. His nose wrinkled at the smell of the room, its stuffy air heavy with a musty scent of old carpet and a faint trace of something dead.

"I'll open the windows," Brendon offered. Once air from outside filled the room, the two boys uncovered the practice dummies arranged in the corner of the room, covered with an old, stained sheet. "We should probably clean this room," Brendon suggested, coughing when puffs of dust flew as they dropped the sheet on the floor. "It's gonna be like a minefield for those who have asthma or allergies to dust and dirt."

"There are some cleaning supplies here," Ryan said when he rummaged through the storage closet.

The two of them set to work, sweeping the cobwebs, dirt and dust out of the room to the best they could although there was more to be cleaned like the grimy windows, algae patches on the stone walls and the sooty fireplace. Even the sparring dummies were a bit dirty, bearing strange scorch marks and stains that came from questionable sources.

"What's the plan for today?" Brendon asked as he hauled one of the sparring dummies to the center of the room.

"We'll stick with Expelliarmus and Stupefy," Ryan said, drawing his wand from his pocket. He faced Brendon and held his wand up. "But I believe the Disarming Charm should be learnt first."

"That should be easy," said Brendon, mirroring Ryan.

Ryan's chest clenched but he said nothing. "Alright, wand at ready. I'll cast the spell first." Both boys readied their stances. "Three, two, one -  _Expelliarmus!_ " Brendon's wand flew out of his hand milliseconds and into his.

"Whoa!" Brendon looked amazed.

"Your turn." Ryan tossed the wand back to its owner.

Wrapping his hands tightly around his, Brendon pointed his wand at Ryan and did the same thing as Ryan did earlier. The results were less impressive though amusing as Ryan's wand had sailed through the air and hit him in the face. The two carried on practicing, repeating it over and over again until they perfected the speed of the wrist movement. Then they moved on to competing to see who casted the spell faster, depending on their reflexes.

To raise the stakes, that little contest became a game where points could be earned for being faster than the other. It was a fulfilling practice session, which made Ryan forget about wanting to practice alone. At least with Brendon, he learned a thing or two from the other boy's technique; so did Brendon with Ryan. Overall, the session was enjoyable that they lost track of time.

Ryan thought he'd never been more disappointed when the lunch bell rang.


	19. he messes up

"Oh, the Pukwudgies won't tell you what are the spells they use to help you clean things up," said sixth year Wampus who was sitting with Brendon and Ryan in the Dining Hall. As far as Ryan could see, about twenty out of the hundreds of students decided to stay in Ilvermorny for their Christmas break; the room felt even massive than usual.

"That sucks," Brendon complained while chasing a chunk of sweet potato in his soup. He flipped a page of the book about spells he was reading that was propped up against a pitcher of juice. "Why won't they teach us the spells or something? There's no harm, right?"

"So we won't get lazy and start using magic as an excuse to get things done," answered a Horned Serpent student.

"But we're wizards. Isn't magic what we're born to do?" Ryan piped up.

"Good point," said a new voice, making heads turn. It was Puck, wearing a mild look of disapproval. He was standing behind Ryan. "Besides, don't y'all think it's more satisfying to clean things up with your own hands? Scrub the devil out of things or polish something till it shines?" he asked the students sitting at the table.

Everyone gave awkward smiles and went back to eating, except for Ryan, who turned to face Puck with an impassive expression. "I think it's just you, Puck," he said in the dryest tone possible, "but  _I_  haven't got time to do all those with my own hands." Glances were directed at Ryan.

Puck didn't say anything for a few moments. Everyone waited with bated breath. Then Puck laughed, one that was all barking and snorts, when he ruffled Ryan's hair affectionately. "Me and some of me other friends have cleaned things up in that room you and Brendon use. Honestly, how did you two even stand practicing in such a dirty room?"

"You tell me," responded Ryan coolly, eating his soup while ignoring the looks by others he was given. "Things would be so much easier if you'd have, I dunno, told us about the Cleaning spells." Beside him, Brendon nudged his foot, trying to tell him to shut up, only to be nudged harder.

"Keep dreaming, Brit."

For some odd reason, the upper year students stared at Puck until the Puckwudgie was out of earshot. Then they beckoned at the lower years as though they intended to divulge a secret. " _Scourgify_  for stubborn stains and solid dirt, _Tergeo_ for spilled liquids," said the sixth year Wampus who had spoken to Brendon earlier regarding Cleaning Charms. "S-shape wand movement. I never told y'all anything."

"Thank you so much." Brendon smiled.

Later after lunch, Brendon and Ryan returned to the practice room to find the whole place way cleaner than they had left it. "Looks like someone pitied us," Ryan remarked and Brendon laughed for a strange reason he didn't know.

They continued practicing the spells until they were certain they had perfected it. Day after day leading up to the end of the Christmas break, it had become a routine for both boys to come up here and help each other learn some of the spells from the books Ryan had borrowed in preparation for the first official Dueling Club meeting.

Jimmy was right; Ryan felt that teaching and practicing with Brendon helped both boys improve better as wizards and build their confidence together. Over the time they had spent together, Ryan had also grown more tolerant of Brendon, even managing to crack a small smile at one of Brendon's lousy jokes about one of the paintings.

"There's this super advanced spell I think we should try out today," said Brendon. "I know we were supposed to stick to the basics but since the spell looked really cool --"

"What's the spell?" Ryan asked, cutting into Brendon's rambles. He and Brendon were taking a short break from Stupefying the dummies, which had been bewitched to move on their command. It had been a somewhat stressful but satisfying exercise, all thanks to Brendon who misread the manual for the dummies and made them advance aggressively towards the boys during practice.

Brendon seemed pleased Ryan was taking interest. Usually it was Ryan who led the both of them and planned their sessions together. Today was an exception. It was the last day of their Christmas break, so their afternoon session would be shortened to accommodate for meeting their friends who were returning to school.

"It's called the Patronus Charm." Brendon's eyes were gleaming with eagerness. Pulling the book out from his backpack, he showed Ryan the page of the spell he had bookmarked. "It might be difficult but we should give it a try. If we're sucessful, we could conjure an animal or something which acts like a guardian --"

"Brendon, I can read," Ryan said, effectively shutting the other boy up. His eyes skimmed the page, from the description of the spell to the diagram. "I've seen this before," he murmured.

"Really?" Brendon's eyes widened when his eyebrows furrowed together. "You haven't seen a Dementor, have you?" he asked, perplexed.

"No, but I have an idea what it might be like to meet one," Ryan said. "All the happiness drained out of you. Every day is like staring into an empty void. Everything you used to enjoy becomes not fun at all bla bla bla. It's nothing new." He didn't notice the look of horror and worry on Brendon's face. "Anyway, that lady from the Wand ceremony casted that charm with my wand out. She made a stallion, I think."

"Ah." Though Brendon had wiped off the expression of concern he'd been wearing when Ryan looked at him, there was still some uneasiness in his gaze. Lips pressed together, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He consulted the book, following the steps mentioned; happy memory, let it fill you up inside, wave your wand in a circular motion then say the incantation.

Ryan watched with a somewhat uninterested expression as Brendon shut his eyes and scrunched his nose. He was tempted to ask what Brendon was doing, despite knowing what was going on, but decided against it. It would be rude for him to interrupt Brendon when he was clearly focusing. While Brendon was searching his mind for the happiest memory, Ryan detachedly wondered how Brendon had never lost his patience being around him, even when Ryan was unpleasant. Well, perhaps he  _had_  but he did a splendid job at concealing it.

A slow realization dawned on Ryan that he should probably give Brendon more credit than he did, because out of everyone he had met at Ilvermorny, Brendon stuck with him. Not even Will, the person Ryan often hung out with, had put up with him for this long. Guilt poked at Ryan. "Hey --"

"I got it!" Brendon exclaimed as his eyes flew open, gleaming with excitement. "I found a memory that makes me really happy!"

"Congratulations," said Ryan. "Spare me the details," he added, holding his hand up when Brendon looked as though he was about to elaborate himself. Though he was glad Brendon managed to find a happy memory for the spell, Ryan didn't think Brendon needed to share it with him. "Go on."

"Okay." Brendon was grasping his wand with a huge grin. "Uh,  _Expecto_ _Patronum_!" he uttered and waved his wand in a circular motion. Ryan held his breath, waiting for a silver light to be emitted from Brendon's wand. However, a moment passed then two when disappointment colored the expressions of both boys. "Crab nuggets," Brendon muttered, face falling. "I was hoping a dragon might come out from my wand."

"Well," Ryan began without thinking then realized he had to say something comforting. "It's a highly advanced spell so I guess it should be normal to not get it right the first time around." The comment seemed to have helped Brendon a bit because the pout on his face wavered.

"But, Harry Potter got it the first time he tried," Brendon said morosely. "And he even fought off a lot of Dementors, didn't he?"

"Uh," Ryan frowned. He wasn't much of a fan of Potter and only knew a few but useless facts about the him. If anything, Brendon should be asking Jimmy and Lindsey as they were one of Potter's biggest fans. "I suppose so," he said unconvincingly. "But  _you're_  not Harry Potter," he added in attempts to change the topic before Brendon could say anything.

"I wish I was," Brendon mumbled under his breath, thinking Ryan wouldn't hear him. "Then maybe a certain someone would look up to me and take me seriously."

Ryan's chest tightened at once. "You don't have to be Harry Potter to be liked or respected." His tone grew sharp. "You're ... - People like  _you_ , okay? You're kind, nice and sociable. But me?  _I'm_  sullen, rude and moody most of the time. Most people avoid interacting with me if they can help it," he said bitterly. "Even if they do, it's always out of necessity like assignments and projects, or because I'm a friend of their friend. It's never because they like me for me."

A deep frown etched itself on Brendon's features. "I  _like_  being around you," he said stubbornly. "I always have for, like, the past months we've known each other."

"I have a feeling it's either because we're roommates or because Puck told you to be nicer to me --"

"That's not true!" Brendon protested. He sounded upset. "Ryan, why do you always compare yourself to others? It's not healthy, y'know," he said. "See, this is why it's difficult for you to see the good in things around you. You're always so negative!"

"I can't help being negative!" Ryan snapped, temper igniting. "The world's been shitty to me so I'm returning the favor!"

"No,  _it's not_." Brendon's face was flushed now. "You're only saying that because of how you've been feeling lately but being negative is not --"

"Don't you go judging who I am and who I'm not," Ryan warned. "Last I checked, you're just someone I have to share a bloody room with till I graduate from this hellhole." The furious light in Brendon's eyes doused out. "You don't know me that well to be able to tell what kind of person I am, Urie."

"I've been your roommate for about four months so of course  _I'd know_  a thing or two about you."

"That doesn't count."

"It does!" Brendon wasn't planning on backing down. "And what about these past few days? I've felt like you and I could actually be friends --"

"For the record, I only agreed to practice these spells because I thought I'd be able to learn those spells better. I didn't do it for you, I did it for  _me_. So you should forget about whatever  _delusion_  that you've got your head wrapped around."

Brendon appeared pale and hurt, not that Ryan cared in the heat of that moment. "Fine." He began to get up from sitting on the floor. There was that look on his face Ryan was familiar with, the one that had his lips pressed together, his jaw set tightly and eyes averted. "Whatever. It was great practicing with you but I guess now I'm back to square one."

"It wasn't like there was a square to begin with," Ryan sneered without thinking. Brendon didn't reply, instead spun on his heel and stormed out of the room.

▬▬▬

It's been half an hour or so since Brendon had left and Ryan was certain he could feel the onset of guilt choking him following after his temper had cooled down. He had remained in the room, fuming and cursing long after Brendon had gone but now that his energy had been spent from releasing his anger, he felt hollow inside. He couldn't believe what he was feeling was similar to how he'd felt last year.

Expelling a sigh, Ryan got up from sitting in front of the fireplace; the embers were dying and he hadn't been aware of how cold the room was becoming. After stuffing the book Brendon had been reading earlier into his backpack, he made his way downstairs. He hadn't realized how late it has gotten. One glance out of the windows and the sky was starting to darken as the sun set. He picked up his pace but while he was walking down the path to the common room, his steps slowed.

A knot of apprehension tightened in his chest. How was he going to face Brendon? The secret entry to the common room became more difficult to approach the more Ryan fretted about how he was going to communicate with Brendon later. Even if the selfish part of him insisted Brendon would let their argument slide, he didn't believe it would be that easy. Besides, Ryan has had some nasty thoughts or two about Brendon but he had never voiced them. Yes, he might've disliked Brendon a bit but Ryan had never intended to hurt his feelings this way.

A group of Pukwudgie students, who seemed to have returned from their break, were a few paces ahead of him. This gave him the chance to blend in among them so that his arrival wouldn't go noticed immediately should Brendon be in the common room. For all the trouble, it seemed that Brendon wasn't present in the common room, and not in their room either. The lump of guilt in Ryan's throat hurt even more.

"Have you seen Brendon?" he asked when he managed to catch Patrick walking down the hallway of the boys' dorms, specks of snow dotting his strawberry blond hair. Patrick shook his head then arched his eyebrows questioningly. "Nothing, I just wanted to give something back to him," Ryan answered; he knew his answer was sketchy so he thanked Patrick and left hastily.

The common room was gradually filling up with people as students returned. All around Ryan, they were greeting one another and laughing while they recounted their experiences during the break. Ryan sat in a corner next to the decorative Christmas tree, hoping he wasn't too noticeable. His eyes scanned the room but none of the faces looked like Brendon.

"Hey, Ryan," said a voice, startling Ryan.

"Oh, it's just you, Nestor," breathed Ryan in relief as the house's Head Girl sat beside him. "How was your holiday?" It wasn't common for Ryan to actively engage people in small talk, it was usually the other way around but he was really tense he wasn't acting himself.

"Good," Jamia responded. "I got to celebrate Christmas at my grandparents' in Alaska. It was really great and I got to see their huskies too." She produced some photos from her jacket and showed them to Ryan, even though he never asked.

Ryan's attention were barely on the photos. His eyes kept flitting up to see if Brendon would be slipping off somewhere. "Have you seen Brendon anywhere?" he asked, cutting Jamia off in midsentence as she was talking about some dog sledding race her state was famous for.

"Brendon? Um, no," Jamia said with a frown. "Didn't he stay back for the break?" Ryan nodded in answer. "Wow," began Jamia in a thoughtful tone, "I honestly thought he'd spend Christmas and New Year's with the Smiths."

Ryan frowned. "As in the family of Spencer Smith from Wampus?"

"Yep."

"Why?" Ryan blurted before he could think.

"Because they're his family, sort of." Jamia shrugged. "But if you want the details, you should ask him. Why'd you ask about Brendon, though?"

Ryan shrugged, cheeks turning red. "I was looking for him."

"Oh, okay." Jamia nodded. "Anyway, speaking of looking for people, Will from Thunderbird was looking for you earlier." Ryan's heart gave a painful skip in his chest. "Said he wanted to talk or something."

"Really?" Ryan cleared his throat, embarrassed his voice had went slightly higher in pitch. "Where is he?"

"Probably back in the Thunderbird Common Room but you'll get to see him at dinner later, right?"

"I guess so." But Ryan wasn't really worried about Will at the moment; he would be, if he hadn't snapped at Brendon earlier.

After an attendance check was taken by the Head of the House for those who had returned, the Pukwudgies trudged their way to the castle grounds. Unfortunately, Brendon wasn't part of the group so Ryan guessed he was probably with members of the other houses. When they arrived at the Dining Hall, Ryan's eyes fell on the crowd and began to search the sea of faces around him.

And then he spotted Brendon. His heart leapt but tumbled when he saw that the boy was with Spencer. A scowl immediately settled on Ryan's face when Spencer turned around. It was no surprise that his expression was returned. Sitting at the table with his fellow housemates, Ryan kept a careful eye on the Wampus table whilst making sure the seat beside him was vacant.

Once the teachers arrived in the hall, students who were mingling around returned to their respective houses. Ryan held his breath, eyes following Brendon but fell away when Brendon chose to sit at the other end where a few lower years beckoned him to join them. The vacant spot beside Ryan was taken by Frank.

"Yo," greeted Frank, nudging Ryan's arm.

"Hello," Ryan said glumly then ignored Frank afterwards.

The Headmaster gave a speech in front of the hall at the lectern to welcome all the students back, made some corny joke about snow that everyone groaned at then allowed everyone to tuck into their meal. Dinner was delicious but Ryan barely ate because he was so busy making an apology speech in his head that he didn't have a chance to try out all the food that was served to the students.

After dinner was over, the students were led to their respective houses. As the Pukwudgie house was filing out of the hall, Ryan fell a few paces behind those in front of him so he could catch Brendon on their way back. However, he wasn't successful as Brendon was busy speaking with other members of the house on their way. Ryan bit back the swear at the people who were keeping Brendon away from him. It wasn't until they reached the stone steps that led to the path to the greenhouses when Ryan stopped and thought,  _Hang on, why am I chasing after_ _Brendon_ _to apologize to him? Can't I just wait until bedtime? It's not like he'd sleep anywhere else, right?_

In that moment, Ryan remembered Will was looking for him. He made a split second decision then and there to look for Will instead, despite the possibility that he might get told off by a teacher or prefect. He made sure to be extra careful as he snuck towards the hallway going to Thunderbirds' tower, making sure to wear the hood of his winter cloak to avoid recognition. Just as he reached the third pillar to the stairs of the tower, he was snatched from behind, a hand clamping over his mouth to prevent him from screaming.

Time seemed to slow down from that point. Panicked, Ryan elbowed the person who'd grabbed him with strength he didn't know he had. A masculine voice cried out in pain. Ryan whirled around, pulling his wand out from his pocket and exclaimed, " _Stupefy_ _!_ " Before the person even had chance to recover from Ryan's elbow, a bright light shot out from Ryan's wand and hit the person square in the chest, sending them collapsing on the floor like a rag doll.

Ryan stared at the unconscious body, only coming to awareness of how fast he'd reacted. His blood roaring in his ears was all he could hear and he was barely aware of how tense his body had gotten. The person's face was obscured by the shadows casted by the spaces where the sconces light could not reach. Shakily, Ryan bent down to get a closer look when utter shock rippled through him.

The person turned out to be Will.


	20. how to apologize

A string of rapid fire curses escaped from Ryan as he tried to wake Will up. "C'mon, open your eyes," he pleaded, shaking Will by the shoulders. Even though he knew the effects of Stupefy would last about few minutes or so, Ryan couldn't risk waiting around for Will to come to; there were Pukwudgies patrolling the grounds to make sure students weren't outside past curfew and they'd surely get caught if Ryan couldn't wake Will up in time to hide.

Ryan had dragged Will to behind the pillar where Will had grabbed him, hoping it'd hide them while doing what he could. "Merlin's bloody beard," Ryan cursed, "wake up!" Unfortunately Will didn't. Ryan fell on his bum from squatting too long and scowled at Will. "What an awful lot of trouble you are," he muttered then sighed in resignation. "Might as well cast a Disillusionment Charm though I doubt it'd work on the Pukwudgie Patrol."

After putting up the enchantment, Ryan sat and waited when Will awoke, blinking slowly. "Ow, my face," he muttered, placing a hand to his cheek.

Ryan toed his shin with a scowl. "You think that's smart, don't you? Jumping me from behind, I mean. Gave me a bloody scare for my life!" He glared at Will.

"My bad," Will managed apologetically.

"Next time, calling by my name will suffice."

"I'm sorry."

Ryan huffed, crossing his arms when his features softened. In his state of panic earlier, he hadn't noticed minute details of Will like how nice he smelled, how pleasantly he was smiling despite being scolded by Ryan, how there was a perfect curl of hair resting on his forehead -- Ryan frowned at Will. "You cut your hair," he said.

Will arched his eyebrows then laughed. "Yeah, so I did." Ryan stared, a tiny part of him bemoaning at how Will's hair no longer fell past his shoulders in perfect waves which had always tempted Ryan to run his fingers through them. Will's hair was now short, reaching above his collar. His fringe was now pushed to the right side of his face in a disheveled quiff. He looked like one of those photogenic wizard models on magazined he saw displayed in the Bootshaven bookstore.

"Well," Ryan began in a slightly uneven voice, "it looks nice on you."

"Thanks!" Will beamed. Unlike Ryan, who was acting more reserved than he usually did around Will, the other boy had a his usual air of friendliness and warmth. It still confused Ryan as he had expected some amount of tension between them as their last interaction before this was an argument. Wasn't there supposed to be a certain amount of awkwardness behind the outward familiarity Will was exuding? Perhaps Ryan had been blowing their argument out of proportion in his mind, just like every other unimportant detail he had encountered lately.

"Nestor told me you were looking for me." Ryan changed the topic before his mind could veer off the matter at hand.

"Oh yes." Will's voice had dropped lower in volume. He peered out from the pillar both of them were hiding behind before turning to face Ryan. There was something about Will's smile that drew Ryan's curiosity like iron to a magnet - then again, when hasn't it not done that to Ryan, anyway? "I wanted to apologize to you for not being supportive about you joining the Dueling Club," Will explained.

Ryan stared at Will. Currently he was feeling a mix of conflicting emotions, some of which he could name and some of which he couldn't. The most prominent emotion to him was disbelief. Sure, he had hoped things would smooth out between him and Will, but Ryan had always envisioned  _himself_  to do the apologizing. After all, Ryan was the one who lost his temper and made a fool of himself in front of Will. It should be Ryan saying sorry, not Will.

 _But he was the one who tried to stop you_ , said a tiny voice in his head.  _He was the one who thought you were weak, right?_  Ryan did his best to ignore it. It was the very same voice that made him worry unnecessarily over things. He shouldn't pay attention to it.

"Oh," was all Ryan could manage. His eyes traveled away from Will's, cheeks tinting with color. "S'alright, I guess." Will's eyebrows arched though Ryan couldn't blame him for being surprised. With a shrug, Ryan stood up from his squatted position earlier and gave a curt nod. For some reason, he now felt slightly annoyed - had he known that it was a mere apology that took up about 10 seconds of his time he would've waited till the next day to speak to Will. "I'll see you tomorrow, then," Ryan said.

"Don't you want to hang out with me for a little bit?" Will asked. "I know a cool place in school we could stay for a little bit," he said.

Ryan would've said yes but he didn't. Instead, he shrugged nonchalantly. "Maybe some other time? I have ... something to do," he explained.

"Oh."

There was a tiny stab of guilt in Ryan's chest. "Yeah." He drew his gaze from Will's, lips pressed together. With an awkward wave, he said his goodbyes to Will before hurrying off back to the common room. He managed to slip inside without anyone noticing although he had a feeling his entrance hadn't gone unnoticed. He scurried his way to the room but hesitated at the door. Inside he could hear Brendon; he was pacing about and saying something Ryan couldn't catch. He strained his ear, pressing it to the door with a frown on his face.

" _Can't ... stupid ... hell ... --_ "

"Um, did Brendon lock you out?"

Ryan jumped, head swiveling around to find a confused-looking Josh staring at him. Embarrassment tinted Ryan's cheeks as he straightened up and tried to meet Josh's gaze boldly. He cleared his throat and said, "No, I was just ... checking the door." A part of him wanted to hex himself at that point.

Josh arched his eyebrow, took one look at the door then Ryan before giving a slow nod. It was clear he didn't believe Ryan. "Right," he said. "Good night then," he added before walking off.

Once Josh was out of earshot, Ryan huffed in relief before he realized Brendon's voice was no longer audible. Frowning, he gave the doorknob a twist and entered, finding all except the light by his bed turned off. A human-shaped lump under the covers occupied the bed across Ryan's. Judging from the curve of its appearance, Brendon was facing away from Ryan's bed, which was something he never did. Brendon always slept facing Ryan's direction. Also, there was no way Brendon could fall asleep so fast.

Ryan approached Brendon's bed, staring down at the lump with a skeptical frown. "Brendon," he said.

The lump didn't move.

"Brendon," Ryan said, louder this time. No response. His patience wore thin and he scowled down on Brendon's body. "I know you're not asleep." Still, no response. Expelling a sigh, Ryan backed away and plopped down on his bed, staring at the lump. Seconds ticked by before he realized there was strange and dull ache in his chest. His hands were resting on his knees, curled into fists. Though he had always wished people would ignore him, he didn't want it this way. " _Brendon_ ," he pleaded and this time his voice cracked, just a little.

The dull ache in his chest was growing more noticeable with every pulse. Biting back his frustration, Ryan pressed his lips together and dug his nails into his palms. Accepting the fact Brendon wasn't going to be responding to him was one thing but he was stubborn as well. He had a plan, which was to fool Brendon, who was presumably awake, into thinking Ryan had fallen asleep but when in reality Ryan was waiting for the right timing.

Only, it was great in theory considering Ryan could stay awake for hours at a time in bed. However, tonight was an exception; he didn't know how but one blink he was staring at Brendon, eyes boring into the lump on the bed, and the next he was opening eyelids that seemed to have glued shut together. Frustration burst without warning as he sat up quickly. He had just realized the bed across him was empty. He bit back a curse, did a quick scan of the room and found no signs of his roommate. A part of him wanted to scream at himself but the other would rather do it at Brendon.

Ryan got ready quicker than usual and was headed to the Dining Hall. Upon passing its great wooden doors, his eyes landed right at the spot where Brendon usually had his breakfast and lunch at. His heart leapt then plummeted when he noticed Brendon was getting up to leave with, out of every nasty person Ryan had ever met, Spencer Smith. Ryan tried not to stare but he did glare at the both of them out the corner of his eye.

"Good morning," Will greeted pleasantly when Ryan took a seat beside him.

"Why the long face?" teased Gabe, eyes twinkling with mischief as he bit into his toast.

"Why don't you mind your own business?" Ryan shot back. Gabe didn't seem offended, instead was amused. He was always amused with everything, for some reason.

"Ooh, savage," Will said. He pushed a bowl of oats to Ryan. "Eat up. You need your energy for the morning." While Ryan tucked into his breakfast, Will, Gabe and their friends chatted, their topics of discussion ranging from incomplete assignments that were due on that day to the Quodpot match between Pukwudgie and Thunderbird in the next two weeks. "They've got good players this time around," Will said, looking around.

"They sure do," agreed Vicky.

"Say, Ryan, you used to play Quidditch, didn't you?" Sisky inquired. "I heard you were a good player? Why didn't you join Quodpot? You'd have given Bill here a run for his money if you did," he added with a wink while Will let out a groan and rolled his eyes.

Ryan shrugged, not really paying attention to the conversation at hand. His gaze kept drifting to the table where Brendon and Spencer sat with their friends. A small bit of frustration snapped at him. Why did Brendon have to be friends with one of the most unpleasant people Ryan had ever met? Perhaps this was karma catching up, he thought, for being rude to Brendon most of the time. But Ryan hadn't always meant to, well, he couldn't exactly be in a pleasant mood  _all the time_.

Though Ryan shared classes with Brendon that day, it seemed the universe was doing its best to stall his attempts to apologize to his roommate. Pop quizzes, difficult assignments and the odd explosion (someone blew up their apparatus during Potions) stood in Ryan's way of approaching Brendon. It didn't help that Brendon was somehow one of the first few people to leave classes. Even during lunch, Brendon was nowhere to be found.

"Do you wanna go feed the fish in the pond?" Will had asked while Ryan was searching the hallway during that time, referring to one of the courtyards nearby.

"Sorry, some other time maybe?" Ryan had responded.

Just as things were getting in his way, that afternoon there was a Quodpot practice session scheduled for the Pukwudgies. Ryan had spared no time going to the Quodpot pitch to look for Brendon. By the time he got there, the team had just finished their warm-ups and going airborne.

"Perfect timing, Ryan!" Ryan turned to see Jamia and another girl beckoning him over from the pitch. Ryan went right up to them, wondering why they were excited to see him. "We were just looking for someone to help keep track of the score for the game. Lucky for you, each goal is 10 points, like in Quidditch so I believe you won't be having any trouble," said Jamia as she handed him a clipboard. "Cassie here will be keeping track of time."

"Hey," said the other girl with an amiable smile, waving.

Ryan inclined his head in greeting. A mock match between the main team and the substitutes began, signified by a shrill whistle from Cassie that left Ryan's ear ringing slightly. Afterwards, he and Cassie took a seat at the row closest to the pitch, observing the match. Even though his job was to keep track of the scores of both teams, his eyes would search for Brendon every so often.

Admittedly, Quodpot seemed like an exciting sport now that Ryan was witnessing it, forgetting about his inclination towards its Bristish counterpart. Given, it had more suspense and action compared to Quidditch although Ryan's stomach churned with worry every time a player's Quod blew up, eliminating the player from the game. Despite that, the teams played their best and managed to secure the Quods in the opposing team's goals before they could explode.

Everything seemed to be going well right until the thirty-fifth minute into the game. The substitute was rushing to get the Quod into the main team's pot, resorting to high speed maneuvers and spectacular dives. The main team's defense was working overtime, chasing their opponents about. The part when Ryan's heart stopped, leaving him gasping, was when one of the subs crashed into Brendon, who had performed a dangerously swift spin through the air. Time seemed to slow when bodies crashed. There were yells, followed by Brendon being knocked off his broom.

Brendon flailed his arms wildly, screaming, as he plummeted through the air when he landed on the ground with a thud. A collective silent fell on the pitch in half a second when everyone came back to life and scrambled to the ground. Ryan had watched, limbs locked, as he stared at where Brendon had fallen with shock. Between a heartbeat and the next, there was a sick feeling in his gut, wrenching his insides. His ears were ringing louder than when Cassie had blown the whistle earlier.

A dark possibility occurred to him which snapped him back to the present. His body began to scrambled over the barrier separating the seats from the pitch. He barely heard Jamia barking at everyone to keep some distance away from Brendon while he shouldered his way through the crowd. And then something in him died when he saw Brendon; for some reason, it was the same feeling he had felt when he heard his mother breathe her last breath.

Brendon looked like he was fighting to stay conscious, ashen features contorted in agony. He was panting hard and releasing muffled whimpers, tears squeezing past his shut eyes. His hand gripped his leg. Everyone around him was letting out cries of worry and panic but Ryan could only stare. The world around Ryan began to sway when he realized Brendon must've broken his leg badly from the fall.

"Get out of the way!" Someone shoved Ryan roughly aside but he was too in shock to even respond. The person bent down, pointed his wand at Brendon and uttered something. Immediately, Brendon's breaths evened out and his eyes fell shut, face going slack.

This struck something in Ryan, like a spark to gasoline. Again, there was that sick dying feeling inside him, gripping his heart and squeezing it till it hurt. Unexplainable hot rage for that person began to fill him. What had they done to Brendon? His breaths went uneven as he directed his gaze to the person, who turned out to be a seventh-year girl from his house. But in Ryan's mind, he saw the girl as someone who might've killed Brendon. Ryan began to walk towards her, his features impassive but eyes burning with fury. " _What have you done to him?_ " he demanded, grabbing her by the collar. Hands suddenly yanked him away from the girl.

"Whoa, dude, relax!"

"Merlin's sake, what's your problem?"

Ryan struggled against the hands but they only pulled him further away from Brendon. Desperation and fear seized at him. "Let me go!" he yelled.

"Ryan, chill!" Jamia's eyes flashed. "Penny just put a painkilling charm which will help Brendon sleep it off!"

Ryan stopped struggling at once, staring at both Penny and Jamia in disbelief. Embarrassment colored his cheeks. "Oh." The grips on him slackened. Jamia shook her head at him before calling off the practice session. Everyone walked away, hesitation in their steps, but Ryan could feel their gazes boring into him like hot needles into his skin. Though he didn't see the way they looked at him, a part of him said  _Well, you've_ _succeded_ _in making a fool out of yourself with that scene._   _They'll all think you're crazy, no doubt, just like back in Hogwarts_. His chest hurt.

Ryan stayed rooted at that spot, watching as Josh and another boy came onto the scene, casting a Levitation Charm on Brendon then rushed him to the Infirmary. The soul-wrenching feeling he had experienced earlier was replaced with an aching hollowness. His eyes stung from the onset of tears but he made no efforts to blink them away like he always did.

Cassie came up to him with a sympathetic look on her face. She placed her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, it's alright," she said but Ryan didn't agree on the inside.

He shook his head and pressed his lips together. "Don't worry about me," he told her. "I'm fine." He was anything but that.

▬▬▬

According to the school nurse, Brendon  _had_  broken his leg from the fall. He had his bones fixed the moment he was rushed to the Infirmary and was now recuperating. He was to spend his night there, apparently, until his bones healed and he recovered from the shock. Ryan had heard all these from snatches of conversations from the house's Quodpot team; he had purposely stayed in the Common Room to listen for any news about Brendon.

The suspicion that Penny might've hurt Brendon somehow hadn't disappeared, which was why Ryan was making plans to sneak out of the common room tonight to see him. He just needed confirmation that Brendon was alright, despite hearing that he was in stable condition from the other Pukwudgie students. The numbness from witnessing the chain of events earlier hadn't left either, so Ryan was walking around with a gaping void where his insides should be.

The news of Brendon's injury had spread faster than Ryan thought; the hall was abuzz with it during dinner. He could hardly eat his meal without hearing some kind of rumor about Brendon's broken leg that had a detail blown out of proportion. Ryan wasn't hungry anyway.

The time he spent waiting in the common room after dinner until everyone turned in was the worst. He was restless, he kept fidgeting and glancing around, to the point that the pretense of studying here was forgotten all together. By the time the last person left the common room, heading to their dorm, Ryan got up from the armchair he was occupying. He left the room right away, pulling on his cloak. With only his wand as a source of illumination, he snuck all the way to the Infirmary, barely managing to hide from the Pukwudgies who were patrolling tonight.

When he reached the Infirmary, hands resting on the door, he realized he was shaking. "Get a grip on yourself," he said through gritted teeth. The door didn't budge when he pushed it so he used Alohomora to make it open. Then, the door creaked open. Ryan bit his lip, hoping the noise didn't alert anyone of his presence. Holding his breath, he poked his head in before entering.

Moonlight streamed into the otherwise dark Infirmary. All the beds were empty except for one, which had a screen placed to obscure Ryan's view from the occupant; that was most likely Brendon's. There was a silhouette of a boy casted against it, its figure sitting up.

"Who's that?" Yes, that voice was definitely Brendon's. "If you're the Bogeyman, I suggest you to fuck right off because I have Riddikulus!" His voice was shaking.

"I'm --"

Two spells were casted after that instant.

" _Riddikulus_ _!_ "

" _Lumos_ _!_ "

Light flashed from their wands; Brendon's flew towards Ryan whilst Ryan's simply lit up the room. Obviously there was no effect of Brendon's spell on Ryan. "I'm not a bogeyman, or a Boggart, for Merlin's sake," Ryan huffed in exasperation as he made for Brendon. He stepped right around the screen and scowled down at a gawking Brendon. "Honestly, am I  _that_  scary?"

Brendon's mouth hung open as he stared at Ryan. Then he snapped it shut, sitting up. "You just came in without a word so of course I thought you might be some creature of the night who's come to eat me." He sighed then waved his wand at a tiny lamp on the nightstand, which promptly lit up. Then he watched as Ryan, who had doused his wand's light, draw up a chair to sit next to the bed. Brendon hesitated. "Why are you here?" he asked.

A snarky retort popped up in Ryan's head but it remained as a thought in his head, left unsaid. Instead, he shrugged, not looking at Brendon. Of course he had a reason to be here, except he didn't know how to explain himself. He was stalling, taking his sweet time to remove his cloak and drape it over the back of his chair then brushing off invisible specks of dust off his pajama bottoms. Then, slowly, Ryan raised his gaze to Brendon's. "I wanted to see you," he said, barely audible.

Brendon's eyes rounded slightly before they narrowed into a halfhearted frown. But he didn't say anything and his features softened. The two boys regarded each other in dim light, silent as they acknowledged each other's presence. The tight knot of worry in Ryan's chest loosened, allowing him to breathe better; Brendon was okay. He wasn't dead. Nobody had lied to him like he had suspected. The relief almost made him want to tear up.

"I'm ... sorry I didn't bring you anything to eat or drink. Rude of me not to," Ryan said to break the awkward silence.

It was Brendon who looked away. Though it was too dim to tell, Ryan thought Brendon looked sad. His finger was twisting around the coverlet. "You came to see us practice, right?" he asked softly.

Ryan wanted to say no because, really, he'd been searching high and low for Brendon the whole day. "Yes," he lied. "I thought I'd show my support for the house or something." Filthy lies. He lied to himself on a daily basis but to lie to someone he had hurt hurt Ryan even more than deceiving himself.

A smile pulled Brendon's lips but it didn't reach his eyes, didn't make them twinkle like they always do. "Well, that's good, I guess."

Ryan pressed his lips together. His hands closed into fists on his knees. He had his chance to tell Brendon how sorry he was for his harsh words yesterday yet his tongue refused to cooperate, leaving him caught between speaking and remaining silent. Frustration built up in his throat. Why couldn't he just apologize it like any normal person would?

"Jamia told me how you accused Penny of killing me," Brendon said, with a dry chuckle. Heat rushed into Ryan's cheeks. "And how you kinda went a little crazy."

"I really thought you died. You were --" The dull ache Ryan had been carrying since that afternoon intensified as he remembered the way Brendon had looked - ashen-faced and on the verge of tears. It was something Ryan never wanted to see ever again. "I didn't even know what spell Penny used since she did it non-verbally and then you just suddenly went ...  _still_." His throat closed painfully as the backs of his eyes stung. "I was so scared that I --"

\--  _could've lost a friend_. Friend. Even though Ryan had never considered giving Brendon this label, the word popped up in his mind without any need to be forced out. It just came as naturally as breathing. Besides, Ryan didn't think he'd stand it if he lost one more person with a name, who had a place in his mind.

Brendon stared at Ryan, lips parted. "Well, I didn't think you'd come to see me because of ...--" He trailed off but it was clear what he had wanted to say.

"I don't hate you, Brendon," Ryan said. "And I didn't mean what I said to you yesterday. I just ... sometimes I don't  --" He broke off when Brendon sniffled and was rubbing away at his eyes. Startled, Ryan forgot his next words as his attention shifted from himself to Brendon. His mouth went dry. "Merlin's beard, are you --"

"I'm sorry," Brendon managed. "Don't worry, something got into my eye --"

" _Both of your eyes?_ " Ryan didn't spare a moment to listen to whatever excuse Brendon was about to spout. He was already searching his pockets when he found what he wanted. Pulling it out, he handed it to Brendon. "For Merlin's sake, Urie," he muttered but there was only gentle concern in his tone. "Here, use this."

Hearing him talk like that made Brendon tear up even more. He took the handkerchief from Ryan and dabbed at his wet cheeks. "Goddamit, Ryan." His voice cracked when he laughed. "God damn you."

Ryan was confused as to why there was always this business of using God's name in vain and why Brendon was saying this Muggle term to him. He stared at the other boy, brows furrowed together. "What?"

Brendon shook his head for some mysterious reason and was now grinning and crying at the same time. Ryan was afraid he might've broken Brendon in some way and felt guilty and ashamed of himself. "You have no idea how many things you make me feel," Brendon said.

Ryan wasn't certain of what to make of that statement. "Is that a bad thing or good thing?"

"Who knows?" Brendon's lips were turned up at the corners slightly but his eyes were shining with the smile. He was looking at Ryan too, in a way Ryan didn't think he'd ever did before (or maybe he  _had_  but Ryan was too caught up with himself to care, anyway). It made Ryan's heart wring itself out like a wet rag but leap at the same time.

Brendon stuck out his hand. "Apology accepted. Let's shake on it?"

Ryan didn't hesitate to take his hand.


	21. the first dueling club meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **trigger warning**
> 
> mild description of an anxiety attack
> 
> _the beginning and end of the scene with the following triggers will be marked with triple-asterisks (***)_

Against better reasoning, Ryan stayed in the Infirmary with Brendon till the crack of dawn. He didn't like the thought of going back to his dorm and sleeping all alone, listening to just his breaths and his heartbeat. Another reason why he stayed was because Brendon was the only person at the Infirmary tonight; given his fear of Bogeymen, Ryan took pity and slept there that night. He occupied the bed next to Brendon's, pretending not to be bothered by how stifling the air was in the room.

Apparently the mattress was too hard for Ryan to sleep on, the pillows too soft, and the sheets smelling faintly of mothballs. He was barely able to fall asleep and ended up staring at the ceiling, where there were paintings of serene-looking cherubs wrapped in flowing cloth. He shifted to his side from his back to face Brendon, cringing inwardly at how loud the sound of his movement against the sheets was. For a long while, he didn't say anything. Even if he wanted to, Brendon had already fallen asleep.

Came the next morning at the crack of dawn and Ryan was awoken by Brendon calling his name. After shaking off the haze of sleep, he got up and left the Infirmary while Brendon promised to see him later at the Dining Hall.

The hallways were deserted, however, it didn't give off an eerie vibe to Ryan as it had last night but gave him a sense of tranquility. The mountain air, though cold enough to raise goosebumps, smelled fresh and invigorating. Ryan could see why Brendon often rose early to jog on certain days of the week; no wonder the guy had a lot of energy whereas Ryan often felt dead and unenthusiastic in the morning.

Ryan arrived in the Pukwudgie Common Room, finding that no one was awake yet to his relief. He hurried to his room as quietly as he could. Once inside, he shrugged off his cloak and tossed it on his bed before taking a seat at his desk. Normally, if he woke up way before the time he was supposed to, he'd be inclined to sleep but after that walk he didn't feel the need to; he also had something on his mind that he needed to write.

Grabbing a pen, Ryan pulled a sheet of lined paper out of his desk drawer and began to compose a draft. Once he was satisfied, he took another sheet and began to write a letter, addressed to Jimmy and Lindsey. As soon as he was finished writing, there was that feeling of a weight lifted off one's shoulder. Hopefully his best friends could answer the thoughts that had whispered in his mind the previous night.

     

▬▬▬

As promised, Ryan saw Brendon at the Dining Hall during breakfast but as usual, to a strange pang in Ryan's chest, they hadn't shared the same table. However, Ryan was relieved to find that Brendon was in better shape when he arrived in the Dining Hall, with a smile radiant as the sun. His legs were no longer bound in bandages although Ryan noticed, or perhaps imagined, that he had a slightly awkward gait than usual. Ryan wondered how much it cost him to conceal the pain, if any, with such a bright smile.

"I heard that Urie kid might not be playing for Pukwudgie for a bit," said Gabriel, who was staring thoughtfully in the same general direction as Ryan was.

"Really?" There was a slight hint of disappointment in Will's tone. He was helping himself to some toast. "That's too bad."

"What do you mean 'too bad'? Have you seen the way he plays? He flies really fast and he does all those crazy dangerous moves!" exclaimed Sisky, looking at Will like he was crazy. "Isn't it a good thing that he's been demoted temporarily from the main team?" Ryan's stomach tightened as he raised his gaze to Sisky, a frown knitting his eyebrows. "I mean, that means it'll be way easier for Thunderbird to win, plus, you won't have to deal with that pesky kid."

"Hey now," Ryan began defensively but Will simply shook his head.

"He puts up a good fight, that kid Urie," said Will, much to Ryan's and Sisky's surprise. "Honestly, I'd love to defend a goal from him. I think it'd be exciting," he added.

"You're nuts," huffed Sisky.

Will smiled pleasantly in response.

Once their stomachs were filled, everyone left for classes. The day went on as usual, although nothing particularly exciting occurred - even in Potions where there was always bound to be at least one explosion. There was a pop quiz for Charms and Ryan was pleased to find that he had scored one percent higher than Dallon, who was the star student of the subject. By the time the last class of the day, Arithmancy, was dismissed, Ryan was relieved.

He returned to the common room to get changed out of his robes when he passed by Brendon on the way back. Actually, he was behind Brendon the whole time, unable to work up the courage to talk to him as Brendon was with his friends. "Yeah, I mean, they feel kinda funny right now but the nurse says I'll be alright once the week is over. Too bad I can't play, huh?" Once they reached the greenhouse area, his friends said the goodbyes and turned around.

Unfortunately, one of Brendon's friend was Spencer, who sneered at Ryan when they passed each other by. Ryan ignored him although he'd admit that he was tempted to hex the older boy when his back was turned. Picking up his pace, Ryan caught up with Brendon. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

Brendon gave a start. "Oh man, you scared me!" he exclaimed. "I'm fine, don't worry."

"You're walking funny."

"I'm not," said Brendon but his ears turned red. "Anyway, how was your day?"

"Uninteresting. You?"

"Same."

They lapsed into silence, which was broken when Ryan uttered the password to their common room. At the back of his head, Ryan felt guilty as he and Brendon weren't saying anything to each other after that, whereas Brendon could talk miles per minute with his friends. Had Brendon truly forgiven him or was Ryan doing a terrible job? Ryan was convinced it must be himself, what other reason could there be anyway?

The claw of self-frustration dug deeper into him when Brendon had barely spent a minute being in the same room with him before excusing himself elsewhere, leaving Ryan by himself in their room. It wasn't even four in the afternoon, which was the time when club activities commenced. Plopping face first into bed, Ryan tried his best to block out all negative reasoning in his head by thinking of good things like hanging out with Jimmy and Lindsey, hearing Will's laugh and an imaginary conversation with Brendon. A part of him scorned at how pitiful and pathetic he was being.

For Merlin's sake, why was he making himself feel awful over a boy?

▬▬▬

As Brendon returned to their room by the time it was nearly four, Ryan had gotten a grip of himself and thought,  _Since when was Ryan Ross so dependent on someone else?_  With a renewed sense of independence, he made himself get ready for the Dueling Club meeting then left the Pukwudgie dorms. He went up to the floor where the room for the club meeting would be held. However a few steps away from the door and Ryan realized how nervous he was.

He didn't know the exact number of students who'd joined the club, much less who did besides himself, Brendon and Ryan. To make matters worse, the unhelpful part of his brain inflated his worries of being incompetent and awkward compared to his peers, which should've been out of the question as he and Brendon had spent hours practicing spells together.

***

As his hand closed over the doorknob, his ears picked up the muffled sounds of voices from inside; apprehension expanded faster in his chest. He could feel his throat closing up and his heartbeat speed up. His limbs refused to move, to turn the doorknob and enter the room, even though he was screaming inwardly at himself that he was being ridiculous.

What if he messed up? What if people laughed at him? What if there was to be a sparring session and Ryan would get choked up in the middle of it when facing an opponent? Or what if he ends up crying and embarrassing himself in front of everybody else?

***

Lower lip caught tightly between his teeth, Ryan stepped back, digging his nails into his palms and squeezing his eyes shut. Even if he knew his fears were irrational, there was no way to stall those provoking thoughts. For a moment he was about to turn around and leave - no one would miss him anyway - when he heard a voice call his name.

"Ryan, hey!" It turned out to be Brendon, walking towards Ryan with a big smile; Ryan almost sobbed in relief. Brendon wasn't alone, though. A sour-faced Spencer and a thoughtful Dallon flanked him. "You okay there?" Brendon asked. "You look a bit pale."

"Y-yeah, I'm alright," Ryan said, averting his gaze.

"Are you lost?" asked Spencer, tone bearing no traces of concern but contempt. Ryan scowled, forgetting about how silly he felt when the trio came across him. Noticing the change of atmosphere, Brendon moved quickly in between the two of them with a nervous laugh, holding his hands in a placating manner.

"Now, now," he said to Ryan then looked over his shoulder to Spencer, "Ryan's in the Dueling Club too."

"Really?" Dallon's blue eyes lit up; he looked pleased with to find out, unlike Spencer. This made Ryan feel a little more at ease. Spencer gave Dallon a withering look, which was ignored. "Cool," added Dallon, grinning, "I can't wait for us to spar together or something!" Ryan's stomach did a nervous flip. His face paled once more and it wasn't just from the fear of being incompetent in holding his own but also because he was afraid either one of them might get hurt.

"Yeah, well, anyway," said Brendon, who was disoriented by the shifts in the atmosphere around them. "We should go inside, we're late." The boys agreed and entered the room together. A leaden feeling dropped in Ryan's stomach, weighing down his insides when he saw how many people were present.

There was a mix of upper years and lower years from every house, although it seemed there were more younger students. All of them were clumped in groups, sitting in circles on the floor and showing off spells. Ryan's steps slowed as he looked at each one of them. The sight was enough to make him forget that it was him who had probably practiced more than all these people in the room combined. Brendon, who was walking ahead, glanced over his shoulder to see Ryan falling slightly behind the group. He slowed his steps until Ryan caught up to him.

Then, he placed his hand on Ryan's shoulder. For a moment, Ryan was startled, jarred out of his worries when he realized it was only Brendon. The tight knot of apprehension within him loosened. "Hey, you'll be okay," Brendon reassured. "We've practiced so much, remember?"

Ryan had his lips pressed together. Brendon might've said that out of kindness, though to Ryan it might also be out of sympathy. Regardless, Ryan pretended not to be bothered by the people around him. "I know," he tried to say confidently but his voice wavered a little at the end. Fortunately, Brendon seemed not to have notice for Ryan's sake.

Once the attendance was taken, the president of the club cleared his throat and waved his arms over his head to get the members' attention. "Um, hello, hi? May I have your attention? Yeah, cool." He cleared his throat, visibly sweating. "Well, I'm not too good with this whole speech thing but anyway, I'm glad everyone could come today. The name's Richard Twelvetrees but y'all can call me Richie. Um, please introduce yourselves, club committee," he said to the people standing beside him. One by one, they introduced themselves but Ryan barely remembered their names, much less attach them to their faces.

"I'm William Beckett, Thunderbird. I'm the Public Relations Officer," said Will, who was standing where Richie had stood in front of the fireplace. It was ridiculous how tall he was and even more ridiculous that he had followed the example of the other officers by standing on a stool. His head poked way over the heads of the members gathered around him. "Just call me Billy, Billy, B - or like my good friend Ryan calls me - Will." Ryan's heart gave a sudden lurch at the mention of his name as a few heads turned in his direction.

"Oh, that's you." For some reason, Brendon sounded both relieved and delighted.

"I'm sure I know my name, Urie," quipped Ryan, rolling his eyes.

Once the committee had finished introducing themselves, they instructed everyone else to sit in a circle for their turn at introductions. Since almost everyone knew each other in some way, it wasn't too nerve-wracking for them. The same couldn't be said of Ryan, even though he was familiar of a few faces; he wasn't as sociable as everyone else. "Ryan. Ryan Ross. Sly-- Pardon, Pukwudgie." His voice came out sounding as though he wad half-swallowed them, so he earned a few strange looks that made him feel awful for even opening his mouth. He made a mental note to keep his eyes averted and speak only when spoken to.

"Right, so I don't expect everyone to remember everyone's names," said Richie, who seemed more relaxed than he had earlier. "But please do make an effort to remember, alright?" He and Will grabbed a blackboard, which Ryan was certain hadn't been there when he and Brendon practiced here. They moved it to a spot where everyone could see, the blackboard's wheels making protesting squeaks. "Right, take a seat everyone," said Richie. "Anyway, since it's our first day and all, we're just gonna give an overview of what the committee has planned for the next four weeks," he explained while he scribbled some near incomprehensible stuff on the board.

"Um, what's that?" asked a Horned Serpent girl, interrupting Richie in midsentence, as she pointed at one of the words on a board. Ryan noticed she was taking notes.

"Expelliarmus," Richie answered.

"Oh, I thought it's expel le anus."

Snickers followed while Richie turned red. "In what universe does that look --"

"Right, I'll take it from here," interjected Will, putting a placating hand on Richie's shoulder. He plucked the chalk out of the club president's hand and erased Richie's untidy scrawl. Then he rewrote everything, in a neater handwriting which everyone could understand. Richie carried on explaining where he left off, although he seemed a bit annoyed and embarrassed at the same time.

"We've learned all the spells they're gonna cover," whispered Brendon to Ryan. "So it should be a breeze to us."

"Yeah, but we've got to learn the etiquette and stances," Ryan said.

"But the spells."

"Okay, sure."

"Anyway, since we've got plenty of time, let's start with the etiquette, alright?" Richie said. "Please pair up with someone and we'll get right to it." Everyone rose to their feet and chose their partners. Ryan turned to his left, intending to pair up with Brendon, but there was a feeling like a stone had dropped into his stomach when he saw that Brendon was walking over to Spencer. Fortunately before he could ask someone else, Dallon was making his way over to him.

"Hey, so you and me, yeah?" Dallon said. Though Ryan harbored a tiny bit of resentment for Dallon as he always came top in the subject Ryan loved, he didn't mind Dallon as much as he minded Spencer 'Sour-faced' Smith.

"Sure." Ryan shrugged.

Then, the committee came around to check on the members, pairing the odd ones out before a demo was given. "So, it's actually pretty simple," said Richie as he and the club's vice president stood before each other. "Raise your wands before your head like so, then turn. Take five steps away from each other. Turn again. Bow then someone, or the two of you, will count to three. Then you can start. " Richie glanced at the curious club members. "If you're planning to spar professionally, then please follow this. Also, never attack your opponent if their back is turned or when they're down - but be sure to be prepared to deflect. However, if let's say you're in danger or whatnot, then forget about etiquette. Just hex the hell out of there and save your own ass."

"Fight, fight, fight," someone began to chant from the back when gradually everyone joined. The committee tried to shush them but Richie simply laughed then held up his hands.

"Fine, fine. We'll squeeze in a little sparring session then." Richie and the VP faced each other. "Right, I'll demonstrate defense while Kenny will demo the offense. Go easy on me, Kenny."

"Bitch, please," laughed Kenny.

Then the two began to duel. Ryan admired how fast Kenny could shoot his spells, sparing no moment for Richie to find an opening for a counterattack. However, Richie was holding up on his own even though he was gradually pushed back, deflecting the spells to the best he could. Just when Kenny almost pushed Richie off the border, Richie turned his body so his chest was facing the crowd and shot a Disarming Spell right at Kenny, causing Kenny's wand to fly out of his hand.

"I gave him a chance," clarified Kenny to everyone while Richie puffed his chest in pride. "Now any questions?"

"What spell did you use?"

"How can you cast the spells so fast without saying anything?"

"Can we spar too?"

"What's one thousand minus seven?"

"Rictusempra, the Tickling Charm," Kenny answered. "Practice and also you'll learn how to cast spells non-verbally in your sixth year."

"We'll only let third years and above do it, since students from any year lower than that might end up hurting each other," Richie said.

"Nine hundred and ninety-three!" called out Will.

"Thanks!" replied someone from the back.

"Did you hear that?" Dallon asked excitedly.

"The answer to the maths question?" Ryan said but he realized belatedly what Dallon was referring to. "Oh, you mean sparring, well --" He looked to the ground, lips pressed tightly together. He could feel apprehension and self-doubt inflating within him once more; Dallon was better than him in spell-based classes, and even if Ryan had practiced during the break, what's to say that Dallon would best him again?

"Okay, everyone please clear this spot. Second years and below, please go to Kenny for further instructions. Third years and above, please take a number for each pair from this box here that Patricia brought with her," Richie directed.

Ryan could only hope, as he and Dallon joined the line, that they wouldn't be one of the first people to spar in front of everyone.


	22. shall we duel?

"I trust you, alright?" said Ryan to Dallon, his voice shaking slightly. "Don't pick the numbers that —"

"— would make us be one of the first people to go first," Dallon finished. "Yeah, yeah, I got it, Ryan. Don't you worry too much for I," he paused to wiggle his fingers at Ryan, "have been on a lucky roll this week."

"You have?" Ryan's eyebrows were arched with skepticism on his features while he tried to remember when Dallon had ever been lucky – perhaps not in class, since Ryan couldn't recall specifically whether Dallon had gotten lucky in any way. "Well alright, I suppose you're lucky then," he acknowledge when the two of them were called up by Richie. Ryan only had a moment to spare Dallon a glance before the other boy approached the club president. Ryan stood to the side, lips pressed together and hands clasped, while he watched Dallon put his hand in the box of numbers, apprehension swirling in his chest.

Dallon had pulled out a folded piece of paper and was opening it. His eyes lit up and he turned to Ryan, giving a thumbs-up gesture and showing him the number.  _9_. Ryan exhaled in relief and nodded. "Not too bad, eh?" said Dallon, grinning as he handed the paper slip.

"Yeah," Ryan said then placed his hand on his chest. He had just become aware of how fast his heart was thumping. The number, 9, written neatly in black ink seemed to waver as he stared at it. Frowning, he crumpled it and shoved it in his pocket and joined the others who've also received their numbers. Unlike Dallon, he simply stood by himself and observed the club members around him. Apart from the slight unease growing within him, restlessness and dread gathered in his chest; how long did he have to wait till his turn?

"Hey, Ryan!" Ryan turned to find Brendon coming up to him with a huge grin, bearing a piece of paper in his hand. Behind him, Spencer scowled at Ryan. "What number did you get?" asked Brendon.

"Nine," answered Ryan as he pulled out the crumpled slip from his pocket.

"Cool! Spence and I got the number eight! We'll be going right before you and Dal." Brendon beamed. Ryan wished he could be like him; Brendon bore no signs of anxiousness as Ryan did and appeared excited. Why couldn't Ryan be like him? Things would be so much easier if Ryan didn't have to worry incessantly over every little thing around him. "Remember the spells we practiced together?" Brendon said and Ryan could've sworn the sour-faced expression on Spencer's face grew more obvious.

"Y-yeah." Ryan's tongue felt like sandpaper. "I remember them." Not really. He kind of did but at the same time if he tried to think of one of them, they wriggled out of his grasp and became a string of indistinguishable letters and sounds in his head.

"I totally believe you can do it," Brendon affirmed. "But just so you know, I'm not picking sides. You and Dallon are the coolest wizards I know, other than Spencer and my family, but yeah, I'm sure you'll do great." Though he most likely meant to be encouraging, his words had the opposite effect on Ryan.

Ryan simply smiled to mask how his insecurities and anxiousness inflated alarmingly after Brendon spoke. He drew his gaze away, keeping that counterfeit smile, and tried his best to suppress the urge to start crying. A tiny voice in his head was whispering, an inward response to Brendon. "I'll only let you down," it said and Ryan couldn't agree more.

Soon enough, Richie called those who were allowed to spar to gather on a stage one of the club officials had magicked out of somewhere. "Ryan, scoot your butt over here, will ya?" Dallon stood on his tiptoes to see over the heads and shoulders around him, tugging Ryan by the sleeve "This would be a great opportunity to learn new spells!" Ryan gave a tense nod and allowed Dallon to lead him. He didn't actually listen to what his partner had said, not really; his heartbeat and the high-pitched ringing in his ears was drowning out the noise around him.

Cheers he couldn't hear erupted all around him when the first pair, who were seventh-years, stepped on the stage. They looked nervous but excited while Richie hushed everyone. With crossed arms, Ryan tried his best to focus on what was happening onstage and not on the ringing in his ears, the rush of his pulse and the press of the air stifled by the bodies around him. He had to take note of the important details, and only the important details because he knew if he allowed the rest to cloud his mind he'd get overwhelmed.

Once the pair observed the proper pre-duel etiquette, the duel began. Flashes of bright light followed swiftly once their wands were out of their pockets. The two of them were evenly matched, as Richie and Kenny had been, so there was no telling who'd actually win. The students around the stage had fallen silent, watching in awe as the pair attacked and counterattacked, deflected spells like nobody's business. They had mastered the art of non-verbal spells so Ryan had no idea about the incantations they'd be using. Beside him, Dallon was vexed, clutching a pen and a notepad and saying, "How in Guac am I supposed to follow this duel?"

Though about fifteen seconds had passed since the start of the duel, it felt like a lifetime watching the first pair fight. There were gasps here and there but the crowd was picking up the nerve to cheer. Ryan would've joined, except his mouth felt drier than sandpaper and he was certain his heart could burst out of his ribcage if it pounded any faster. All too soon, the duel came to an end as the person to the left of the stage took a wrong step back and left himself open for his opponent to strike. His wand flew threw the air and was caught by his partner, who grinned, while the room burst into raucous hurrahs.

"That was amazing!" Dallon exclaimed to Ryan, eyes wide and shining. "But I don't even know what spells they used."

"Probably Disarming Charms?" Ryan said.

"What?"

"Disarming Charms." Ryan had been certain he'd spoken loud enough for Dallon to hear.

"Oh, okay." Dallon regarded him. "Do you need water? Or a seat? You look kinda pale."

"I'm fine." The truth was Ryan had grown so accustomed to telling that lie whenever someone showed their concern towards him. He wasn't. His heart was just a thump away from breaking out of his chest, his hands were clammy and disgusting and he was certain the floor beneath him was swaying slightly. Still, he told himself – no, deluded himself – that he'd be okay and that he needed time to get used to all this.

Except he didn't.

With each duel that drew his and Dallon's turn closer, Ryan felt worse even though he appeared calm, bored even, on the surface. A few times he was yanked by the urge to get out of here to gather himself yet his feet stayed rooted to the spot; he practically forced himself to stand through the duels even though he felt like running away. A few times he tightened his fists, the sudden sting of nails slicing through his palms offering a welcome but fleeting respite from the waves of unease threatened to drag him under.

"Oh! It's their turn!" Dallon tapped Ryan lightly on the shoulder but Ryan's heightened senses made it feel like he'd been smacked roughly. Brendon and Spencer were stepping onstage now; unlike the previous pairs, the two of them appeared ridiculously at ease. There were even grins exchanged between them as they bowed to each other and pulled out their wands.

Suddenly, the floor beneath Ryan's feet began to sway and the sick feeling he'd been denying and suppressing forced its way back up. The ringing in his ears grew louder again till his head pounded. He was vaguely aware of him swiveling on his heel and shoving everyone out of the way as he made a beeline for the exit. Everything after that was a blur right until he made it to the nearest bathroom.

Right there and then, laughter tore from his throat; Ryan could hear himself as though from a distance. Truly, he sounded terrifying, like someone who had lost their mind. Not only that, tears were rolling out of his eyes and splashing hotly on his palms which he had pressed on his face. He barely registered the dull throbbing in his knees, which had resulted from his legs giving way underneath him.

What was he thinking signing up for the Dueling Club? What had truly gone through his mind when he agreed to train with Brendon? What had he hoped to achieve when he spent all those hours poring over those spellbooks in the dead of night?

Ryan couldn't do it, no way, after seeing the way those students before him sparred. He was woefully behind them in this particular area, he was certain of it.

 _You know I'm right,_  said that voice in his head, the source of all his anxiety. It sounded too much like Barebone.  _You're weak, spoiled rotten by that bitch you call your mother. Useless, weak —_

Ugly sobbing bubbled from Ryan's chest. Somehow, he managed to pull himself into an empty stall where he could cry away from any prying eyes. Perhaps it'd been his imagination but he thought he heard the door open, followed by a set of footsteps. But when he had calmed down, feeling hollow and kind of dead inside, he heard nothing in his vicinity other than his pathetic sniffling. He gave himself a minute to compose himself, wiping off whatever damage tears had left on his face then went to unlock the stall.

It seemed Ryan was not alone, though he was hardly surprised to find Brendon waiting by the sink, looking ashen and biting his nails to the beds. Then again, Ryan doubted that after breaking down he could feel anything at all, at least until tomorrow.

Brendon perked up at the sight of Ryan, eyes filling with relief and something else. It was almost like he was sad for Ryan, but describing that look as sad was an understatement. He opened his mouth as though to say something but folded his lips together. His entire body was tense, like he was holding himself back, as he approached Ryan carefully.

Ryan simply stared at him, rooted to the spot. Maybe it was good for Brendon's sake that he broke down otherwise he'd have thrown a fit and hurt his roommate. Or maybe he'd have pushed Brendon away when the other boy placed his hands hesitantly on his shoulders. Either way, Ryan couldn't bring himself to say anything at all.

Just as Ryan thought he was well past feeling anything, a faint tremor of shock rippled through him when he saw a single tear slide its way out Brendon's left eye.

"I'm sorry," said Brendon, his voice tremulous. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Ryan. Oh my god, I'm so sorry." Ryan didn't even know why Brendon was apologizing. In fact, it wasn't him who had caused Ryan to have so many personal issues. What's worse was that now Ryan felt directly responsible for Brendon crying, like he was the person who caused Brendon this pain. Guilt had a funny way of working itself into you. And somewhere somehow, the two of them ended up holding each other, with Ryan awkwardly patting Brendon's back with this confused but dead-looking expression while Brendon bawled into his shoulder.

A part of Ryan thought this was ridiculous, considering he was the one who had broken down and lost it, so he should have been the one being comforted.

Yet, he found himself not minding a single bit.

Slowly, his hand found its way to the back of Brendon's head and his face in Brendon's neck. He never thought he'd ever give someone this kind of hug, except maybe his parents. Not even Jimmy nor Lindsey. Yet there he was, running his fingers through Brendon's hair reassuringly while he whispered, "Calm down, Urie. It's not your fault so please stop crying now."

Ryan expected things to go awkward between him and Brendon afterwards but it didn't for some reason. Once Brendon managed to calm himself down, his cheeks looking blotchy and some snot running out of his nose, Ryan made him go wash his face and joined him for good measure. He was certain he wasn't much of a spectacular sight as well.

"Just don't tell anyone I was crying." Brendon wiped his face with his sleeve, earning a look of distaste from Ryan.

"I won't." Ironically, Ryan did the same as Brendon did, only the look Brendon gave him wasn't that of distaste like his had been but rather concern. "What?" Ryan said.

Brendon drew his gaze away hastily and shook his head. "Nothing." It was a lie.

"If you want to say something, go ahead. I'm too numb to care about anything anyway." Also a lie.

"Well —" Brendon paused. "I was thinking, maybe just maybe, we could head to Bootshaven to have some waffles and ice-cream or something." Ryan stared at him, eyebrows arched, stopped halfway through the process of rolling down his sleeves. "I-it was just a thought, y'know, to cheer you up since I saw you enjoying one with William one time."

"Huh?"

"But it's stupid now that I said it," Brendon added hastily, flushing bright red. "Forget I said anything —"

"No." The answer had leapt out of Ryan. Realizing it was too sudden and a little rude, he said, "Let's go. I can't stand being cooped up in the castle."

"Wait, for real?" Brendon's eyes rounded when realization dawned on him that Ryan was serious. "Oh my god, I can't believe this!"

"You'd better hurry up before I change my mind," Ryan said in the most annoyed tone he could muster but that broke away when he grinned at the end. The two boys ended up laughing and the memory of him being awful at all earlier nearly faded away.

▬▬▬

"No, no, it's fine!" Dallon laughed good-naturedly, waving his hand in dismissal when Ryan went back to apologize for ditching him. "I mean, as long as you feel better now, I really have no complaints."

"Really?" Ryan's brows furrowed together. The lump of guilt that resided in his throat dissolved a little but not enough to stop aching. He dropped his gaze to the ground, nodding with his cheeks flushed. Around him, the activities for today were continuing as though Ryan's absence didn't matter — it was a relief to know he hadn't disrupted anything.

"Really," Dallon confirmed and patted Ryan's shoulder.

Standing behind Ryan was Brendon. Initially the two of them had planned to sneak off to Bootshaven but Ryan's conscience had held him back. So the two of them ended up back here in the room. Now that Ryan had settled things with Dallon, he and Brendon were about to sneak off again when they were waylaid by Will.

"Ryan!" Will exclaimed and both Brendon and Ryan stopped in their tracks.

"Hi," Ryan replied but his eyes were looking past Will's shoulder at the door. He liked Will but not so much right now because he was really in the mood for waffles and ice-cream. "I'm really sorry about leaving just like that earlier —" He broke off when Will embraced him in a hug. Ryan stiffened with surprise as a frown appeared on his features.

"Dammit, I was super worried!" Will drew back to inspect Ryan although it wasn't necessary anyway since all the damage Ryan's tears had left on his face were washed off.

"Worried?" Ryan echoed faintly. Some part of him prickled with annoyance; if Will was  _super_  worried about him, he would've gone to look for Ryan. Just like Brendon had. So Ryan spoke his mind albeit in a more polite but somewhat strained tone. "But you didn't go looking for me, right?" he said. Behind him, Brendon coughed.

Will's eyes widened before he averted his gaze slightly. "I would've but I had to look after the kids." When Ryan didn't reply, he added, "I'm serious. If I didn't have my hands full at that moment, I would've went running after you." For some reason, the pressure of his hands on Ryan became a little unbearable.

"Well, it's fine." Ryan stepped away from Will, pretending not to be relieved to feel the absence of the weight of the other boy's hands on him. "Anyway, if it's alright, I'll be heading back to my dorm to ... recover."

"Oh, yeah. Cool." Will nodded. "I'll cover for you."

"I'll accompany him too," said Brendon from behind Ryan. Ryan had almost forgotten he was there; he'd been quieter than a mouse the whole time Ryan was talking to Will. There was something different about his expression now, but Ryan couldn't pinpoint what it exactly was. "I'm his roommate, after all."

Will gave Brendon a look, almost like he was about to say no, but he glanced at Ryan. "Fine." There was a sour kind of reluctance in his tone when he said that. "I'll notify Richie about both of you."

Brendon and Ryan were on their way back to their dorm to get changed. Ryan turned to Brendon to say something when he saw the funny expression on the other boy's face. "What are you smiling about?" Ryan asked, confused.

Drawn out of his thoughts, Brendon looked up at Ryan. "What? Oh nothing, I guess."

"You don't smile for nothing," Ryan pointed out.

"Fine. I was smiling because I was thinking of something good. Happy?" Brendon snorted then nudged Ryan in a playful manner. "Race ya to the dorms."

"I'm not some five year old —" Before Ryan could finish the rest of his sentence, Brendon took off like a hare. Mystified, Ryan decided to run as well though a part of him suspected maybe the footrace was simply to distract him from something else.


	23. a squish

"Y'know," began Brendon while he and Ryan were on their way to breakfast, "sometimes I wonder how the birds who deliver our mail never end up—y'know—dropping the stuff on someone's head or the food."

Ryan stifled a yawn, barely listening to Brendon at all. "Mm," he could only respond. Beneath his eyes were dark shadows, an indicator that he hadn't gotten much sleep the night. They had just left the common room and were on their way to the the main castle grounds. The sky was overcast, the gray clouds allowing only pockets of sunshine to filter through them. It was drizzling slightly; fine droplets of water caught on the two boys' hair and skin.

"And I know some of us have allergies but I wonder why the birds' feathers don't trigger the allergies or something," Brendon continued, casting a water repellant spell for the both of then. "D'you think they're hypoallergenic or something?"

"I suppose so," Ryan replied through a yawn. "Though I have no idea what hypoallergenic means," he added. For the past week, he and Brendon had started to go to breakfast together instead of the usual, which was Brendon leaving for breakfast first. This time around after freshening up from his morning jog with the Pukwudgie Quodpot team, Brendon would wait for Ryan to get ready. A few times Ryan had told him that it was fine and he didn't have to wait, Brendon would make some half-assed excuse that Ryan couldn't care about. So Ryan let him be and the rest was history.

Ryan heard Brendon snicker so he turned to look at him, a mild scowl forming on Ryan's features. "What?" Ryan asked.

Brendon shook his head. It was a mystery as to why he seemed so happy in the morning as he was grinning from ear to ear. Ryan pondered on this and wondered if the bird delivery topic starter had anything to do with Brendon's mood. Was he expecting a letter from someone dear this morning? If so, Ryan wondered who it was.

They arrived at the Dining Hall not long after. Compared to dinner, the noise level at breakfast was significantly lower and the atmosphere of the room was a lot calmer. Ryan's eyes searched the hall, looking for someone.

"Are you," began Brendon as their steps slowed down when they were approaching the tables, "going to sit with the upper-years today?" That was what he called Will and his friend's.

Ryan looked to their usual spot, finding it empty. He'd have preferred if Will or one of his friends were there—he didn't like to be kept waiting. Ryan shook his head. "I'll join you guys today," he answered. The two of them headed towards the place where Brendon and his friends usually sat during breakfast.

"Yay, you're with us today!" Dallon clapped his hands, grinning when Brendon and Ryan sat down.

"Yay," Spencer joined it but his tone was sullen. Ryan thought he saw the older boy roll his eyes before holding up a copy of The Wizarding Post as though to block Ryan out of his sight. Both Brendon and Dallon seemed oblivious to Spencer's moodiness—or they probably ignored it—and started to chat to one another while food magically appeared before them out of thin air.

Ryan remember the first time seeing that happened and had felt so confused until Vicky explained that he simply needed to think of what he wanted to eat before the food could appear. However, this depended on the type of food you wanted; if the food you wanted wasn't breakfast-worthy, then it wouldn't appear.

"Ooh, that looks good," commented Brendon when he saw Ryan's breakfast, a serving of cinnamon and sugar French Toast.

"Thanks," Ryan said. "Do you want some?"

"Ooh, don't mind if I do."

"I'm in the mood for some breakfast biscuits," announced Dallon when a plate of the food he wanted appeared next to his orange juice. "Score!"

"Those aren't biscuits." Ryan frowned. "Those look like scones."

Spencer sighed loudly, causing the three boys to look at him. "Well, in America, it's biscuits," he told Ryan.

"Now now, no grumpy Spencer at the table. And never mind about the names—they'll end up the same in our tummies. Here you go," said Dallon good-naturedly. It was especially comical to see the younger boy pat Spencer's head while placing a breakfast biscuit on Spencer's plate. "Anyway, I heard from Breezy that we might have a pop quiz later in Herbalism."

"Aw, what?" Brendon sounded annoyed. "Again?"

Ryan tuned out the conversation, fixating his attention on his French toast. It was delicious, crispy on the outside and creamy on the inside with the right amount of sweetness, just the way he loved it. There was a pang of nostalgia in his chest when he realized it tasted just like the French toast his mother used to make. Before he could dwell on that fact, the displacement of air behind him snatched his attention. He looked up to see birds swooping into the Dining Hall; each of them delivered either packages or mail to their respective recipients.

A particularly fine specimen of a black kite circled above the table where the four boys sat before dropping a parcel into Dallon's open hands. "Thanks, Sadie!" Dallon called to it, receiving a sharp cry in return, before he tore open his package eagerly. Within a few seconds, a large black crow delivered some mail to Spencer. It gave Ryan a haughty caw with a beady glare.

Ryan kept his eye on the flock of birds swooping in and out, hoping to catch a sight of Peony, Lindsey's owl. He had sent a letter to them a few days ago and was expecting a reply. Soon enough, the owl he was looking out for came into view, swooping downwards before she released a parcel for Ryan then soared out of the hall.

"Are those from your Hogwarts friends?" asked Brendon curiously as Ryan opened his package.

"The parcel and one of the letters are from them," said Ryan as he undid the string tying two envelopes to the box, "and this one's probably from George."

"Your Dad?"

Ryan hesitated. "Y-yeah." He looked at Brendon who was turning away to look at the rest of his friends. A small frown crossed Ryan's features. It had never occurred to him but now that it did, he realized he had never heard of Brendon receiving anything from his family. "Are your parents sending you anything?"

Brendon let out a nervous chuckle and was about to answer when Spencer interjected, "His family is my family."

"Sure," Ryan scoffed.

"Uh yeah!" Brendon agreed with Spencer a bit too quickly. There was something about his hasty reply that didn't convince Ryan and suggested there was probably more he wasn't saying. "I live with Spencer's family."

"Oh?" Ryan arched his eyebrows. "I see." But he didn't, he only said it because the way Spencer was glaring at him was putting him off. "Then, has the Smiths sent you anything?"

"Just a letter from Mom and Dad," answered Spencer. "I expect you to stay out of our business," he added gruffly.

"Whatever, Smith." Ryan rolled his eyes. "It wasn't like I was that interested anyway."

"More breakfast biscuits?" suggested Dallon, which was a failed attempt to ease the tension between Spencer and Ryan. In the end, the two boys went about studiously ignoring each other until breakfast was over and students had to go to class. Ryan, who was still fuming over Spencer's remark, found it difficult to pay attention during his lessons as he was busy thinking of ways to hex Spencer. Besides, Ryan had the right to ask about Brendon, didn't he? Brendon was his friend; not only that, there was something about the funny look he had when he saw Ryan receiving a letter from George.

"Pst," hissed someone from the row behind Ryan when a paper ball hit him square in the head. Ryan looked back to find Sarah pointing at something in front of him. Bemused, he turned around in his seat and realized with a start the Charms Professor was coming around to have a look at her students' work. Slightly panicked, Ryan looked down only to be greeted with the sight of his worksheet, clean from any sort of working, so he scrambled to grab his pen and pretended to be busy doing it.

Once Charms was over, Ryan turned back around in his seat. "Thanks, Orzechowski," he told Sarah, "I owe you one."

"Oh it's no biggie, really!" Sarah waved it off, smiling. She had a really nice smile, Ryan thought, which somehow reminded him of one of his old housemates in Slytherin. "Anyway, see you around." With a friendly wave, she got up from her seat and left the class with her friend, Breezy.

Ryan had just went back to putting his books away when Brendon came over to his desk. "What?" Ryan said when he looked up to see yet another funny expression on Brendon's face—he should really pick up Art so he could draw them for reference.

"She's amazing, isn't she? Sarah Orzechowski, I mean." There was something different about the way Brendon said her name, which made Ryan give him an incredulous frown.

"I wouldn't know. I hardly know her at all."

Brendon snickered and smacked Ryan's arm playfully, perhaps a little too hard as Ryan's arm was smarting minutes after the gesture. They walked out of the Charms classroom to the Dining Hall for lunch before Brendon decided to talk again. "So, about earlier ...—" he began, trailing off.

"When you hit me or about Sarah?"

"Uh, neither." Brendon tugged on his tie, loosening it then unbuttoning the collar button. He moved on to rolling his sleeves up whilst walking, which caused him to nearly walk into people as his attention was elsewhere. "Just this morning, I guess."

"I can't read minds—watch your step—you have to—Brendon, the pillar—" Ryan had to grab Brendon by the arm to prevent the other boy earning a black eye. Annoyance that he had built up the whole morning manifested itself, causing him to snap, "What is with you being so mysterious today. It's not like you."

Guilt flashed over Brendon's features. "Sorry," he said quickly, ducking his head. "It's just, Spencer, y'know? I'm sorry about what he said to you."

Ryan stopped in his tracks. Then, he gave Brendon an exasperated frown. "Don't apologize for him," he said, "and it hasn't been bothering me. At all."

Brendon arched an eyebrow at Ryan. "Yeah," he responded but it was clear he wasn't convinced by the lie. "Anyway, Aunt Sally and Uncle Peter do send me stuff. Spencer's parents, I mean." There was a long pause after that, which concerned Ryan because Brendon was the chatty one between the both of them. Ryan snuck a sideways glance, only to find Brendon wearing a pensive frown. "I ... don't hear much stuff from my family."

Ryan looked at him now, the new information he received causing his entire focus to shift over to the boy by his side. The world faded into the background and it was only Ryan's instincts that guided him from tripping over his own feet or bumping into people. He opened his mouth, though he didn't know what to say. Would it be wise to ask Brendon about his relationship with his family? Or should he express his sympathy, even though he had a feeling it wouldn't be fully appreciated? Perhaps it'd be safer if he patted Brendon's shoulder but Ryan didn't even know if that was right. However before he could stress over more possibilities, the sad look on Brendon's face vanished and left behind a smile.

It was startling but at the same time it tore a hole in Ryan's chest. The smile Brendon wore was counterfeit and his next words, "Man, I'm starving!" were simply said to throw Ryan off. So when Brendon dashed to the Dining Hall after challenging Ryan to a footrace, Ryan couldn't help but stare after him. And he realized, somewhat belatedly, that perhaps Brendon hadn't always been sunshine and warmth like he had believed.

▬▬▬

"I swear, the shirts you wear to Quodpot practice is practically a protest against the sport," remarked Dallon when Ryan joined him to watch the Pukwudgie practice.

Ryan scowled then looked down at his shirt. "It's just a Quidditch shirt from Hogwarts. It's not like I'm naked or anything," he stated, a hint of indignation surfacing beneath his tone. Besides, it was only a Slytherin t-shirt that had the logo of a serpent with its fangs out, coiled around two broomsticks and the Golden Snitch.

"Just saying." Dallon put his hands up in a placating gesture. "But you must be super proud of your old House to want to wear its clothes around." He patted the empty seat beside him, which Ryan took.

"Yeah, I guess." Ryan propped his feet up on the back of the chair in the row in front of him. As he didn't have anything particularly important to do that afternoon, he decided to spend his time watching the Pukwudgie team practice. He could've joined Will and his friends down at Bootshaven but lately Will was busy with his academics and Ryan didn't want to be much of a bother.

The two boys watched the diving drills proceed, hearing the shouts and whistles from the field. The only time Ryan's muscles tensed with anticipation and his insides wring together was when Brendon's turn to dive came. It was probably silly but when he saw Brendon dive, the memory of that horrible crash that resulted in Brendon breaking bones resurfaced in Ryan's mind. The knot in his chest was so tight he didn't think he breathed until Brendon landed on the ground safely.

"Hey, Dallon?" Ryan said.

"Hm?"

"How's," Ryan said then faltered slightly. "How's Brendon doing?"

A frown crossed Dallon's features before he turned to look at Ryan. "Uh, not to be rude or anything but aren't you his roommate? I mean you should know how he's doing, right?"

"Yeah, but —" Ryan shrugged. His heart was pounding, blood roaring in his ears, while a familiar pressure pressed into his throat painfully. He looked at Dallon. Ever since Danielle Ross passed away, Ryan had found it difficult to express his feelings, his mind going blank whenever he tried to find the words to describe how he felt. It had become second nature to him to suppress than to release. Not only that, his trust issue was another matter at hand which prevented him from telling Dallon what he wanted to talk about, which was Brendon. Sure, Dallon seemed like a nice guy but that didn't mean Ryan's judgement was correct.

"Y'know, you can tell me instead of staring at me like that," Dallon said, breaking into Ryan's thoughts. The blue-eyed boy looked faintly uncomfortable. "I'm not a  _Legilimens_  so I can't tell what you're thinking."

"Sorry." Ryan drew his eyes away quickly. Heat spilled into his cheeks. "Didn't mean to stare at you like that. I was thinking."

"Brendon's right about you having a scary face when you think really hard. Like you want to kill someone with your eyes."

Embarrassment colored Ryan's face even more. He tried to relax his features but that made his face feel weird so he stopped. Then he realized belatedly about what Dallon said. "Wait, he talks about me?"

"Sure he does." Dallon laughed. "I think he had a squish on you."

"Pardon?"

"A squish." Dallon held up his hand and made a squeezing motion with his thumb and index finger. "It's like a crush, except you don't have romantic feelings for that person. Instead, you just want to be their friend so badly."

"Oh."

"Also he was a bit of an Anglophile," Dallon went on, "so when he met you, you can imagine what goes on in his head. Like, 'Oh sweet Mama Mary, he's British!'"

Ryan couldn't help but feel waves of secondhand embarrassment. He put a hand to his face and shook his head. "Merlin's pants, he what?"

"Yeah and he wouldn't stop talking about you." Dallon  was laughing. "He just thought you were really cool."

"Because I'm British?"

"Among other things."

"Well, I'd hate to say this but I'm not purely British. My father's American and my mother has some Swiss blood."

"I'm Canadian."

"Cool." A brief silence followed after Ryan's response. He picked at a stray thread on the hem of his shirt, winding it tightly around his finger. "What about Brendon? His family, I mean. Not the Smiths but the Uries." Thinking that was an abrupt way to start off, he added, "He mentioned them briefly on our way to the Dining Hall for lunch. About how he doesn't hear much stuff from them."

"Ah." Dallon nodded, although he had his lips pressed together, like an unconscious gesture to keep a secret. "Um, he hasn't spoken to them in a long time. That's all I know, I swear." He pushed back the strands of hair that fell over his eyes when a gentle breeze blew. "But if he mentioned his family to you, I'm sure it's a big sign that he really trusts you and considers you as one of his closest friends."

Ryan could've sworn his heart skipped, followed by the sensation of warmth spreading throughout his body. The knowledge that he'd been trusted with one of Brendon's secrets weighed heavily on his mind but he didn't mind the burden. Once again, he found himself unable to say a word. Drawing his gaze away, he looked to the field where the Pukwudgie Quodpot team were scattering to take a water break. Somehow his eyes managed to zero in on one figure, who was making his way towards the row where he and Dallon sat.

And then Ryan's heart squeezed with an ache, though something told him it would be a pain he'd grow familiar with.


	24. bedtime conversations

The conversation with Dallon regarding Brendon's family left Ryan with a load of mixed emotions. For someone like Brendon, it was hard to believe he had any problems with his family. Ryan had expected Brendon to have perfect parents and siblings who had all raised him with love to help him become the person he was today. Brendon's relationship with his family must've been really bad since he stayed with the Smiths instead. Yet, he carried on living every day with a smile on his face, his warm and caring disposition never wavering. Ryan wondered how he did it but he also found Brendon's strength admirable. The boy was tougher than Ryan had given him credit for.

"Are you angry at me?" A voice broke into Ryan's thoughts. Suddenly, he was back in his dorm again, sitting on his bed with an awful slouch that would've probably increased his chances of getting back problems in the future. He blinked a few times then realized it was Brendon who was talking to him.

Ryan drew himself up and leaned his back against the wall. "No," he said, arranging the spellbook he borrowed from the library on his lap. "I was thinking." He tried to relax his facial muscles, which he discovered were tensed into a scowl.

"You were facing my direction," Brendon said. He too was on his bed, laying on his stomach with some papers spread out. Beside his pillow were his glasses, which were bewitched to help him focus.

"Yeah, I didn't mean to. Sorry."

"It's fine." Brendon was sitting up now, facing Ryan. There was a thoughtful expression on his face as he regarded Ryan. "Y'know, if you wanna talk about it, I'm here to listen," he offered; it was clear he thought Ryan was having a problem or something.

"Thanks." Ryan shut the spellbook and pressed his lips together. He had his gaze averted as well. Though he had gotten somewhat used to Brendon offering to listen to him, he thought it was probably intrusive if he outright demanded to talk about Brendon's family. After all, Brendon only offered out of concern for Ryan's problems, not his own problems out of Ryan's mouth. Ryan wasn't going to take advantage of that. However, there was something else he could try.

"Actually, I was thinking about that Arithmancy problem from class," Ryan lied. "I'm not sure if I got it right." There, that should throw Brendon off a little.

Something like relief bloomed on Brendon's features. "Ah, right," he said. "Oh, but I'm sure you'll get it correct. I mean, you're smart and you're, like, the most careful person I know." Even though Ryan was tempted to deny, Brendon's conviction in the way he spoke made him shut up and accept the statement.

"I suppose so," Ryan muttered. He shut the spellbook. It wasn't like he could focus on reading it now. Have you," he began as his bloodstream began to flood with nervousness, "spoken to anyone in your family lately?" He hoped the question wasn't too direct.

Brendon nodded. "Spencer. At dinner."

That wasn't the answer Ryan was expecting but he tried not to make himself obvious. "Oh." However, his monosyllabic response must've given him away because there was a subtle shift in the air around Brendon.

The muscle between Brendon's eyebrows twitched slightly. A pause stretched between them until he cleared his throat, putting two and two together. "You don't mean my actual family, right?" There was something about his tone that made Ryan regret asking in the first place. Compared to how Brendon sounded as usual, there was a tiny edge to his words now—wariness, Ryan was certain—that made Ryan's insides squirm a little.

"Uh."

"I wouldn't know." Brendon's expression didn't waver but something in his gaze did; it reminded Ryan of a door closing, which sent a stab of guilt through his chest. Brendon looked away from Ryan to the floor. "I mean, I haven't reached out to her—my real mom—since a year before I started at Ilvermorny."

Ryan wanted to respond but all his brain could think of saying was a dull "Oh." So he kept quiet and looked to the floor too. A tiny bit of frustration flared inside him because of his inability to say anything comforting. He didn't know if Brendon hated hearing words of sympathy like he did but at the same time he wanted to say something meaningful to Brendon. Then he thought about what his roommate would do if he was in Ryan's position. "Do you," he began, the words tasting foreign on his tongue, "want to talk about it?"

For some reason, Brendon's eyebrows arched and his lips parted into a little O. "Ah." His voice sounded higher than usual. "Well, it's okay. I don't—I mean—I, uh—" He coughed. "I'm fine. It's fine. It doesn't really make me sad." Out of all the people Ryan knew, he didn't expect to sniff out a lie from Brendon.

"Anyway, I'm kinda tired from all this studying," Brendon admitted, gesturing at the papers on his bed. "I'm gonna go to sleep soon." Without waiting for Ryan to respond, he swept the papers into pile and got up from his bed. Ryan watched after him until the bathroom door closed.

Ryan didn't believe Brendon at all. Yet he couldn't help but wonder if this was how Brendon felt whenever Ryan lied to him too.

▬▬▬

"I think the Wampus house is having an existential crisis again," observed Brendon as they walked to classes the next morning. When Ryan finally looked up from flipping through his notes, Brendon pointed at the posters tacked up on the walls.

_IT'S TIME FOR YOU DECIDE_   
_"WAMPI OR WAMPUSES"_   
_CAST YOUR VOTES NOW!_

"About the plural form of their house creature or their bad posters?" Ryan asked as he passed by one. It was the fact though; there were unique though appealing designs for each poster and the slogans on them didn't quite catch Ryan's interest that much.

Beside him, Brendon laughed. It was such an easy sound, high and clear and full of amusement. Ryan turned to look at him, finding the other boy with his hand clapped over his mouth. They just passed by a few Wampus students who gave them the stink-eye for dissing their works. "Oh my God, Ryan," said Brendon once those students were out of earshot. "Say it louder for the people in the back, why don't you? Anyway, they usually have this campaign—if you call it that—annually around this time of the year. In my opinion, Wampuses seems grammatically correct but last year, some senior included the word Wampussies. All I can say is that it won, but I'm pretty sure it was a joke."

"Who says Wampi?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it if I told you."

Ryan regarded Brendon for a few moments before turning away. He couldn't help but think about the secrets Brendon hid behind his smile, his facade. But it wasn't like Brendon was all that different from Ryan. Everyone kept secrets. Surely even the most open people hide them beneath the surface of their skin.

A sudden thought occured to Ryan. Perhaps he should take a leaf out of Brendon's book. Try to be a little more cheery and smiley.

"Um, you okay there?" Brendon asked.

"Huh?"

"Your ... Your face looks funny."

"Oh." Ryan gave up his efforts to be like Brendon. Either that meant it was a bit too drastic for a change or he should continue being his regular, melancholy self. "It's nothing," he insisted when Brendon continued to stare at him in concern. The look on his friend's face suggested his doubt in Ryan's statement but Brendon looked away at the end.

The day carried on as usual, with boring lectures in History of American Magic to mind-boggling questions in Arithmancy to a hectic experiment in Potions. Finally, lessons came to an end for that day during Herbalism after they had managed to extract Bubotuber Pus from the Bubotuber plant. It was a messy job as they had to be four times more careful than usual because the stinky sap of the plant was dangerous when it came into contact with skin. Once their extracts had been purified, diluted and stored in vials, everyone left the greenhouse immediately.

"I'm pooped," announced Dallon as he, Brendon and Ryan left the greenhouse.

"Hello pooped, I'm Brendon."

"Hey, I make the dad jokes here. Not you."

"Says who?"

" _Me_. Like two seconds ago!"

Ryan lingered a little behind from the two, the corners of his lips turned slightly upwards. At first he hadn't understood the duo's humor but after hanging out with them for the past week, he learned to appreciate their jokes. However seeing the ease in the way they interacted with each other always made his heart squeeze a little.  _You're jealous_ , Ryan remembered Lindsey's reply to his last letter to her and Jimmy, accept it. Maybe that was true but Ryan had always thought jealous was a bit too strong to describe how he felt. Envy, a mild form of it. He was brought back to the present when he heard howling laughter from Brendon and Dallon in front of him. And then there was that familiar sting in his chest.

"Hey, Valentine's day is coming up," said Dallon when they reached the main courtyard of the Ilvermorny castle. Belatedly, Ryan realized he was now included in the conversation.

"Really? I didn't notice."

Dallon smirked, pushing his glasses up his nose before he threw his arm around Ryan. "So, who is it?"

"Who's what?" Ryan tried to extricate himself from Dallon.

"Y'know, your crush or whatever."

"Huh?"

Dallon threw his head back and laughed before releasing Ryan. "Come on, there has to be someone you 'fancy', right?" he teased, doing air quotes. A little away from them, Brendon snickered but there was something about it that made Ryan turn his head. "So, who is it?"

Ryan shifted his attention back to Brendon then to the ground. "Um, actually I —"

"Oh, don't tease Ryan like that," interjected Brendon, giving Dallon a good nudge. "He probably doesn't like anyone."

"Except maybe Will Beckett," Dallon said brazenly. Both Brendon and Ryan stopped in their tracks and stared at him. "What?"

The constricting sensation of Ryan's cardiac muscles after hearing Dallon's statement was different from earlier. Well, it was partially true. Ryan had only come to accept that his feelings for Will had gone a little more than the platonic level but that had dulled some time after school reopened. Now, he wasn't so certain anymore. Every time he saw Will in the hallway or when they did happen to be in the same place by chance, he no longer felt elated to see the boy, only a little awkward when they exchanged smiles and made small talk. "I'm not into him," Ryan said after a long pause. "Also, doesn't he have a girlfriend or something?"

"Ouch," Dallon commented. "The course of love never did run smoothly."

"And we should probably hurry up before the No-Maj Film club starts the movie without us," added Brendon.

▬▬▬

Apparently, Ryan didn't have the privilege of escaping the Valentine's day discussion. It seemed that everyone was talking about it, even during dinner. A few times he'd been asked by the older Pukwudgie students who he liked. Each time he'd only shrug and stuff his mouth with food so that they'd get tired of waiting for him to finish chewing and swallowing his food. At one point he'd been asked again, by Jamia this time, and he gave up and spoke in a dead serious tone. "My one true love is  _my bed_." The whole table was raucous with laughter.

"Man, you're funny!" Josh told Ryan. "You should make jokes more often."

"Trust me, I'm not."

Even with all the speculations and questions, nobody actually revealed who they truly liked. Even if they did, it was always some famous Muggle celebrity or Muggle show characters. There was no way anyone would admit their feelings before Valentine's Day rolled over.

Once dinner was over, everyone made their way back to common rooms of their respective houses. The atmosphere of Pukwudgie common room was as lively as usual. When Ryan came to Ilvermorny last September, he would always be one of the first people to retreat to their dorm. Now, he tried to make an effort to stay with his housemates for at least half an hour before calling it a night

"Well,  _fuck me in the ass_!" exclaimed Frank when Ryan put a card from his hand to the discard pile, ending the game they were playing.

"Watch your profanity," Puck chided.

"Fuck me in the  _butthole_!"

Patrick exhaled a long, exasperated sigh and shook his head at Frank.

"I can't believe I lost to you! One of the worst players I know," groaned Frank as he gathered the cards. "Bad luck seems to like me today," he grumbled as he pushed the bag of chips they'd been playing for towards Ryan. "I lost to Ray this morning too. And he's the unluckiest dude in school!"

Ryan shrugged nonchalantly, taking his prize. "Sounds awful," he said though didn't really mean it. His head hurt a little and he was tired. Getting up from the table, he greeted everyone goodnight and headed back to his dorm. Usually he'd come back to find it empty—Brendon would turn it a little later than him—but tonight he found Brendon at his desk studying. At first, Ryan didn't pay him any attention but after Ryan got ready for bed, he decided to check on Brendon.

"No-Maj Studies?" Ryan asked, peering over Brendon's shoulder. The page Brendon was on had illustrations of an American power outlet and various household devices.

"Mhm," Brendon responded, leaning back in his chair and removing his glasses. He yawned, rubbing his eyes. "I've got a test tomorrow and I can't afford to fail this one. I just hope I've studied enough to pull a pass."

"It's late," Ryan said, glancing at the wall clock. "You should sleep."

Brendon's hand dangled over his shoulder as he looked at Ryan. He looked as though he wanted to protest before thinking better. "Fine," he mumbled then got up. Once Brendon got ready for bed, the lights were switched off except for that glowing rock on Brendon's shelf. A few moments of silence transpired between the two boys before the sounds of sheets shifting could be heard. "Hey, Ryan?" Brendon called out softly.

"Mm?" Ryan's eyes opened just a crack—it wasn't like he had dozed off but he found it did help a little to close his eyes if he had trouble sleeping. "What is it?"

A soft snicker floated from Brendon's side of the room. "Your bed, huh?"

"What? Oh." Ryan's cheeks heated when he remembered his response to the older students' questions earlier. He turned his head to the side so he was facing Brendon, even though it was too dark for any of them to see. "I just wanted them to shut up, that's all. They kept buggering me to say something."

"You could've just stuffed your mouth with food."

Ryan scoffed although the fact that Brendon noticed his evasive, albeit non-etiquette-compliant, tactic made him embarrassed. "By Merlin, I was disgusted with myself," he said, shuddering. "I can almost hear Lindsey—my friend from Hogwarts—screaming 'Table manners, you savage!' at me." The memory of Lindsey being like a mother to him and Jimmy made his heart warm with fondness.

"She sounds like a mom," Brendon opined.

"Well, I can hardly blame her for assuming that role in our group. Sometimes Jimmy and I are the silliest people we know."

There was a heartbeat's duration of silence. "Really?" Ryan could sense the tiniest shred of doubt in Brendon's tone. For a moment, he didn't understand why that was so when he remembered he had changed a lot since his mother's death. Instead of being the boy who smiled and laughed a lot, who was perhaps too kind for his own good, his personality had turned cold and distant; he didn't remember smiling much, only crying and pretending everything was okay so people wouldn't give him their false sympathy. It wasn't as bad now—even if he was reserved, he did smile a little more—but he hardly blamed Brendon for being unconvinced.

Ryan moved to lay on his back. There was a hollow feeling in his chest, the kind he hadn't felt in awhile. "Yeah," he said. "But I'm not like that anymore. I don't think I can go back to being that person I was before. The smiley Ryan bit, I mean."

Brendon released a sound that was halfway between a cough and a snort. "I can't imagine you being smiley and cheerful," he said. Ryan couldn't help but glare at him through the darkness. "It's like trying to imagine Spencer without his mood swings."

"Don't compare me to him," Ryan mumbled sourly.

"Sorry. But if one day you suddenly became all smiley," Brendon continued, "I'd be freaked out. Like, I'd probably think you were replaced by a clone or a robot or something."

"Why? Wouldn't a cheery me make me more likable?"

"Maybe to people who don't know you that well." Brendon paused and Ryan could almost hear him think. "But a cheery you is ... kinda cute. I just kinda imagine a guy who is full of love, happiness and sunshine."

Ryan's eyebrows shot upwards. His pulse had tripped a little but was now continuing at a faster rate. "Oh?"

"Not that I'd replace the now you with that version of you," Brendon added hurriedly.

Ryan mulled over Brendon's words, staring up at the ceiling. Never once did he consider that anyone would prefer his current disposition more than the one he had when he was younger. As he thought about it, he couldn't fathom why Brendon would even like the person he was now. Was it the familiarity he wanted or something else? After all, Ryan had been told on a few occasions that it'd be good for him, and everyone around him, if he was less melancholy and asocial.

Suddenly, an idea occured to Ryan. His heart began to race—surely, this would be the right time, wouldn't it? Under the cover of darkness, when both of them were vulnerable, while they were still on the topic of their past selves. It might've been selfish, and probably a dirty move, but Ryan thought that since maybe he talked to Brendon about himself, the other boy might want to do the same. Detachedly, he suspected this was probably one of the reasons why he had been sorted into Slytherin. "What," Ryan began hesitantly, "were you like before?"

"Eh?"

"Before you came to Ilvermorny. Or before you lived with the Smiths," Ryan ventured. There was a tight rope of suspense tied around his neck as he hoped Brendon would respond. The milliseconds of quiet felt more like hours of silence; Ryan worried he might've went a bit too far with the questions and almost gave up.

"Uh, I dunno." That was lie. It had to be. Why else would Brendon sound so hesitant? "Okay, well ... It's not something I usually talk about to anyone."

"Oh."

"I was a pretty timid guy before—before Mr and Mrs Smith took me in." Brendon exhaled through his nose audibly. "That Brendon was nothing like the now Brendon. I didn't have a good home. It wasn't the best place to raise a kid."

Even though Brendon talking to him about something he wanted to know was achieved, guilt and worry that he might be prying too much pinched Ryan. However, his lips remained sealed as he continued to listen, clinging onto Brendon's next words.

"I only had my mom, you see. Just me and her. Her and me. Not that she was really a good mother. She was just ... terrible at her job at being a mom. I never knew my dad. I tried asking my mom a few times. She wouldn't answer so one time I tried asking her was when she had too much to drink. The only thing I managed to get out of her was that my dad was a horrible person. She said some pretty harsh things too, on top of that. Anyway she made it clear I wasn't really wanted so you can imagine how upset I was. And that was when she and I found out I had powers. I made the lightbulbs blow out and the windows shatter. Got me called a Devil spawn after that. But then I met Mr and Mrs Smith. They were worried about the state I was in when we met at the supermarket in town. I'm not sure what they did but they took me in a few days after that."

Ryan, who couldn't imagine what it was like to be raised in that kind of household, had his chest tight with strong emotions. He felt angry because of the way Brendon had been treated. He felt hatred towards the woman who had mistreated Brendon. He felt guilty too; he didn't think he'd be able to endure as much as Brendon had. And yet, he was amazed too, because here was Brendon. Happy and healthy with where he was now.

"You're strong," Ryan blurted out.

Brendon coughed. "No, I'm  _not_."

" _You_   _are_ ," Ryan insisted stubbornly. Before Brendon could argue once more, he continued to talk. "I don't think I'd be able to go through what you've gone through and be like you."

"T–that's because you're not me." Brendon sounded shocked. "You're the strong one. You're the one who has actually survived meeting a wanted witch who's managed to escape being caught and lived to tell the tale."

Ryan wasn't sure where Brendon had heard of that; he was certain he hadn't told Brendon about it. Well, not entirely. However, he wasn't going to ask. Instead, he sat up in his bed and switched on the lamp on their nighstand. He looked at Brendon, who was lying on his side facing Ryan. "I never bragged about meeting Barebone."

"W-well," Brendon stammered. "But ... but you're strong. You just don't see it but I know it."

"You're deluded."

"And really smart," Brendon carried on. His stubbornness was almost as bad as Ryan's. "And hardworking. And determined. And you don't give two shits about what people think —"

"I actually do."

"You don't, otherwise you'd care about fifty percent of the stuff I've heard of you."

"What?"

"Rumors. But don't worry, I defended your name from the nasty ones and dismissed the weirder ones. Anyway, you're a lot of things, Ryan, you just don't see it."

"I'd say the same about you," Ryan said softly. Maybe he'd been imagining it, since the lighting was bad and his eyes were tired, but he thought he saw Brendon's cheeks color slightly.

"Whoever gets to be with you is lucky," said Brendon as he moved to lay on his back.

A crease formed where Ryan's eyebrows furrowed together. "You're with me now, aren't you?" he asked.

Brendon laughed but it sounded strangely hollow, un-Brendon-like. "Yeah, but not the way I meant."


	25. valentine's day

When the morning of the fourteenth day of February arrived, Ryan was awakened by a badly suppressed squeal from Brendon. Well, perhaps awakened wasn't quite correct in this case as Ryan had been partially conscious for an hour. Upon hearing the noise, Ryan's eyes cracked open a little into a frown as he rolled over to his side. "What," he began, voice thick from sleep, "is going on?"

Brendon, who had been standing by the door with an astonished expression, glanced up from the letters he held in his hand. He had a hand clamped over his mouth, which had done nothing to stifle the noise he emitted earlier. "Good morning!" he chirped with an unusually large grin on his face.

The crease between Ryan's eyebrows deepened before he shut his eyes. "What's with the commotion this morning?" He heard footsteps approaching before the soft squeak of the bedframe followed. His mattress had shifted with a foreign weight, which he assumed belonged to Brendon. As much as Ryan could recall in his groggy state of mind, today was a school day, which was hardly any reason for excitement.

"Letters!"

For a moment, Ryan was about to scoff at Brendon but then he realized something was off. Before he could sit up to look at Brendon, something light touched his forehead "Letters?" he echoed. "Don't they usually deliver those at breakfast?" He sat up and took the envelopes which Brendon had used to tap his forehead earlier. With some confusion, he glanced at them but found no recipient address on each of them. Only his name. There were four of them addressed to him.

"Yeah, but these are special." In Brendon's hand, there was only one letter. Despite the number, he looked rather pleased. "Not bad for your first year here though," he remarked. It took Ryan a moment to realize he meant Ryan's letters.

"Why?" Ryan's eyes scanned over the envelopes. There seemed to be nothing special or unique about them, other than color and size.

Brendon snickered, shaking his head. "Valentine's Day? Ring any bells?"

Ryan stared at him for a moment too long. "Oh.  _Oh_." His cheeks heated. Suddenly, it felt like he was holding live bombs in his hands; he didn't want to touch them anymore. "There must be some mistake," he added hastily as he checked the letters once more. Unfortunately, his eyes had not lied to him as they were all addressed to him. "Or a prank. How many George Ryan Ross the Thirds are there in Ilvermorny?"

Brendon spluttered before breaking into laughter. "There's only one, as far as I know! Lucky you," he teased, elbowing Ryan.

Ryan felt queasy. He dropped the envelopes and tried not to think about the impossibility of this situation. This had to be a joke, right? He was certain nobody had harbored romantic feelings for him. He wasn't that pleasant, charming or attractive. He knew he came off as rude to some, aloof to most people. He had even been told a few times he exuded an intimidating aura.

"Back in my first year, I didn't get any," Brendon told Ryan, oblivious to how the other boy was currently feeling. "Of course, I did send one to someone that year but let's just say they never bothered to find out who the sender was. Anyway, I'm glad I even got one this year. I wonder who it's from."

"Why do I have four of these?" Ryan asked, still visibly distressed by the fact.

"Because," Brendon drawled, "four people like you?"

"I'm not that daft, Urie." Ryan rolled his eyes.

"Well, I mean, what's not to like about you?"

"I could name a lot of aspects of myself that are rather undesirable."

"You're putting yourself down," Brendon dismissed, scoffing. "Anyway, while you get yourself worked up over this little matter, I'll be reading my Valentine's Day letter," he said, placing emphasis on my. Raising his chin in what was supposed to be a play on haughtiness, he rose from Ryan's bed and moved to his side of the room.

Ryan stared after him in bewilderment before looking at the letters on his lap. Seized by a sudden, unexplained fear for them, he removed them from his lap carefully before dropping them on his desk.

As Ryan showered and changed into his uniform, he wondered once more if the love letters he received was all part of some practical joke. It would've made better sense if they were all addressed to Brendon. After all, his roommate was the likable one out of them both. Brendon was nice, cheery, had a great outgoing personality whereas Ryan was rude, moody and sullen most of the time. Considering the probability that the love letters he received weren't actually a prank, he couldn't help but feel that the people who had taken a fancy to him would only be disappointed once they get a chance to know him better.

After spitting out the rest of his toothpaste and rinsing his mouth, he stepped out of the bathroom to find Brendon with that look. Specifically, the look of excited determination. "What's with that face?" Ryan asked warily.

"What face? You mean the one I was born with?"

"No, that look on your face. The one that's like 'I am going to get something done perfectly today, I just know it.'"

"I'm not making that face."

"Yes, you are." Ryan insisted.

Brendon sighed then grinned. "Okay, you got me." He held his letter up. "I wanna find out who the sender is."

"They're anonymous?"

"Well, to an extent. I mean if they wanted to write their names then it's not obviously anonymous but every letter that's sent is bewitched," explained Brendon. "There's always a way to trace them back to the sender but I need to ask the Head of the House to unlock it." Then he grinned, an excited look passing over his gaze that Ryan felt somewhat unnerved by. "And I'll know who it is but there's gonna be a set of clues for only me. Think of it like a scavenger hunt."

"Oh." Ryan nodded in understanding although there was a pensive frown creasing his forehead. "That sounds," he began, walking past Brendon to collect his tie from his desk, "like an awful lot of trouble." There was a tiny yet uncomfortable pressure at the back of his throat as his fingers slid over the smooth fabric of his tie. In a brief moment, selfishness overtook his mind as he fastened the knot of his tie properly and was flipping his collar down. His head was filling with hopes that Brendon forget this silly whim, that he'd give up halfway during the search for the sender, and that they'd never find who the sender was. That was when he caught himself.

Ryan had stopped what he was doing, surprise overtaking him. Since when did he ever think like that? He knew he wasn't that sort, the kind that acted possessive towards his friends, yet the thought of Brendon getting excited over someone who wrote pretty words to him left a clenched feeling in Ryan's chest. Shaking his head, Ryan counted to five whilst telling himself off that he was simply being ridiculous (and that he needed breakfast) before getting up from his bed to gather his belongings for the day.

Ryan's letters were left on the nightstand but when Brendon asked whether he wanted to find out who they were, he brushed his roommate of. "I'll worry about them later. I've got an Arithmancy quiz this morning and I don't want to be distracted," Ryan said curtly. It was a lie; he wasn't going to let Brendon know how anxious those letters made him feel. After receiving a funny look, he and Brendon left for breakfast.

The Dining Hall was abuzz, all the conversations centering around one topic only: the love letters. Ryan fought the urge to scowl and turn away when he entered the room with Brendon. He did his best to occupy his mind to block the conversations out but they reached his ears all the same.

"So, how many?" Dallon asked teasingly as the two boys joined him and a few other of their friends at their usual spot. Brendon held up a finger proudly while Ryan simply rolled his eyes. "Ooh, someone's salty," Dallon remarked. "But Ryan, I'm sure you've gotten some letters."

"I'm not —"

"He's got four," Brendon said and Ryan shot him a dirty look.

"Impressive," Spencer commented, sarcasm thick in his tone. "To think that anyone would find you attractive or desirable."

"Hey, he _is_ attractive." Dallon elbowed Spencer. "Look me in the eye and tell me he isn't attractive."

"He really isn't."

"I'm as attractive as a dead slug in a salad at a dinner party," Ryan said dryly.

"Please," Dallon scoffed as he stuffed a bit of toast in his mouth. "You're literally _like Sasuke_. Y'know, mysterious, kinda angsty, aloof—that kind of energy."

"Who's Sauce Kid?" Ryan questioned.

Spencer snickered into his orange juice while Dallon gave Ryan an offended look. "A character from _Naruto_. Anyway, my point is you should stop selling yourself short. You are an attractive person—" he paused to glare at Spencer, "—just not to Spencer."

"Sure." Ryan was unconvinced. For a moment, he realized something—no, someone's voice—was absent from the current conversation. He turned his head, wondering why Brendon was so quiet when he saw the empty spot beside him. Slightly panicked, he looked around only to find Brendon talking to the Pukwudgie House Head. Ryan wasn't aware of how quickly his expression had changed.

The day went on as usual, minus the part where students were fawning over their letters. However they didn't have afternoon classes that day. Once lunch was over, Ryan spared no time to head back to his dorm. He had been planning to take an afternoon nap so the day would pass by faster. However, right before he could leave the hall, Brendon managed to catch up with him. Overcome with a sudden rush of resentment, Ryan scowled at Brendon, who was babbling excitedly over how close he was to identifying the sender of his letter.

"Please, Ryan, you have to come with me," pleaded Brendon when Ryan expressed his disinterest. He had just proposed the idea of Ryan accompanying him to meet the sender of his love letter. "I can't do this by myself!"

Ryan's insides were twisting like worms in the dirt. He did want to say yes to Brendon but at the same time the thought of them being able to meet the person at last made Ryan want to ditch Brendon. Friend or not, he didn't think he'd be able to bear it. "No," Ryan said flatly.

Brendon's mouth fell open. He had been holding onto Ryan's sleeve but his grip slackened. Something a little more than disappointment flashed over his features for a moment. "Oh." His voice was tiny. "Well, I'll ask Dallon instead."

"Please do."

Brendon's lips were pressed together as he regarded Ryan. There was a look on his face, one that suggested he was about to ask Ryan what was up. But it disappeared as he drew his gaze away. "Okay then," he said, every syllable sending unexpected pricks to Ryan's chest. "I'll see you later."

Ryan didn't move until he was certain Brendon had disappeared. A heartbeat passed as he raised his head to look in the direction where Brendon had left. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides when he released a weary huff. He couldn't believe he had done what he had done. He couldn't believe he was actually considering the first thing popping up in his brain right now. He couldn't believe himself, in general. Gripping his backpack strap tightly till his knuckles popped white, he took robotic steps towards where Brendon had disappeared off to.

▬▬▬

It took Ryan longer than he expected but he managed to locate Brendon in one of the courtyards of the Ilvermorny castle. Ryan had taken the trouble of climbing up to the second floor to the window that overlooked that courtyard to watch. Fortunately there weren't any students around to judge him and suspect him of stalking, which he really wasn't doing. Setting his bag down on the stone floor, Ryan moved to sit on the windowsill although he made sure he could retreat at a moment's notice if Brendon decided to look up.

Brendon was by himself, apparently, and was standing by the fountain. Even from where Ryan was watching, waves of nervousness appeared to jitter their way out of Brendon. He kept looking around, pacing about and fiddling with his hands. Had he already arranged to meet with the anonymous person prior to this? Was that why, instead of walking up to the person, he was waiting there? With his nail in between his teeth, Ryan looked out for any signs of students in Brendon's vicinity. But it seemed that his roommate was by himself. This dragged on for about fifteen minutes or so.

Ryan felt a faint snap of annoyance. He wondered why this person thought it was the point of making Brendon wait for them, causing his roommate to be anxious in the process. Rude, Ryan thought, of them to stand Brendon up like this. After all, Brendon had been excited to meet them. A few more minutes passed and Ryan wondered if the person would ever plan on showing up any time soon. As he waited, a detached part of him thought it ironic how his selfish desire was coming true. Maybe the person wouldn't show up and Brendon would return to their dorm in disappointment. But the thought of Brendon feeling down made Ryan's chest constrict.

"What are you doing?"

Ryan nearly fell off the windowsill in surprise. Hand on his chest, he whirled to see who had spoken when he found himself glaring at Will. Ryan's heart gave a painful skip. "O-oh, it's you," he said rather awkwardly, standing up. "Nice to see you, Will."

Will gave a placid smile but the curiosity never left his features. "You too," he replied before cocking his head slightly. The gesture was too familiar to Ryan that he had to glance away. "What are you up to?" Will asked.

Briefly, Ryan considered lying through his teeth but guilt tugged at him. "Watching over my friend," he muttered. "He's meeting someone."

Will's eyebrows shot upwards for a moment before his lips pulled into an amused grin. "Oh?" He moved next to Ryan and peered out the window. "Ah, it's Urie."

Ryan's face heated. "I'm not stalking him, I swear."

Will laughed. "I believe you," he assured and patted Ryan's shoulder. "He does look anxious about it. How long has he been waiting?"

"Fifteen minutes, I suppose."

"I see."

Ryan bit his lip. It was so awkward now, talking to Will. Guilt twinged in his chest when he remembered how long they'd gone without properly interacting like this yet Will was treating this as though they'd spoken five minutes ago. "You got any letters for today?"

"Yeah." Will shrugged. "But they're obviously from my friends. We have this tradition of sending each other letters with memes on it."

"What?"

"It's a No-Maj thing." Will waved his hand dismissively. "Have you gotten any?"

"Yeah."

"I see." Will peered out the window once more and Ryan did the same. Brendon had given up on pacing and was now staring at the fountain. "Think his date is a no-show?" Will asked mildly.

Ryan's eyebrows began to furrow together. "Yeah," he said and bent down to pick up his bag. He couldn't stand this any longer. "I'm gonna go check on him. Nice talking to you, Will." Without waiting for a reply, Ryan bounded down the stairs. His mind was racing and so was his heart. That person wasn't worth Brendon's time, Ryan decided. If they had liked him enough to write him a letter, they could've at least been punctual. Well, never mind that person anyway. Ryan was going to go up to Brendon and convince him to forget about this meeting altogether.

However just as he reached the last step of the stairs, he heard voices talking from the courtyard. Frowning slightly, he approached the doorway to carefully only to find that Brendon was no longer alone. Making sure to stay in the shadows, he moved a little so he could see who the other person was.

Apparently it was Sarah Orzechowski of Thunderbird. She appeared to be rather apologetic about her tardiness but Brendon seemed to forgive her and the two of them were laughing it off. As Ryan stood there, watching, a mix of relief and disappointment washed over him. His lips twitched as though they couldn't decide to turn into a smile or a frown. A strange mood overcame him.

At least he's alright with it, Ryan thought as he watched Brendon and Sarah exchange hugs. The gesture caused Ryan to wince ever so slightly, for whatever reason, when he turned to look elsewhere. Now he wished he had stayed in his dorm instead.

▬▬▬

Time dripped by like honey after Ryan returned to his dorm. He didn't bother to change out of his uniform only shrugging off his robes, undoing his tie and the topmost button of his shirt. He flopped onto bed, face-down, and lay there for ten minutes before shifting to his side. The bare wall was the only thing in his site as his eyes fluttered half-closed. The strange mood from earlier hadn't left, instead it only made him feel even more hollow. It wasn't the same hollow he'd experienced after his mother's death. Nor the kind of empty feeling he had after crying his eyes out in the aftermath of his intrusive thoughts. This was different, so different.

Ryan didn't know how much time had passed since he had stared at the wall till his eyes burned from the absence of moisture but he found himself sitting up and reaching for the nightstand. His hands closed around the pile of letters he left that morning. With his back against the wall, Ryan took a good look at each of them. Four.

From four people who had feelings for him.

It wasn't that he was repulsed by the idea of anyone liking him that way but he wasn't all that great. If they could take off those rose-tinted lenses and look at him properly, they'd find a broken boy.

The pressure in his hands became too great and Ryan found himself tearing open each envelope. He barely finished reading the first one, the flowery words used in it repelling him. The second and third one had the same effect on him and a detached part of Ryan could only laugh derisively—infatuation was delusion. However when he came across the last one, everything else just became silent.

This one was simple, although there was something familiar and comforting about the way it was written. And Ryan read it again and again until the words in it chased away the empty feeling and replaced them with warmth. He even caught himself smiling.  The sound of the doorknob rattling brought Ryan back to the present

Brendon had returned, appearing to be in a good mood, when he saw Ryan folding the letter in his hand. His eyebrows shot up before meeting together in the middle. "So you read them?" he asked without his usual preamble.

Ryan nodded. His cheeks tinted with color. "They were ... something."

"Oh." Brendon put his robes in a hanger. He went to sit on his bed, facing Ryan. "So, wanna find out who sent that one?" he asked.

Ryan stared at Brendon for a long while before he shook his head. "It's alright." He looked to the paper in his hand. "I think I know who sent it anyway."


	26. a note

> i'm just here today to be the bearer of bad news.
> 
> i'm discontinuing lumos.
> 
> the reason why i'm doing this is because i've grown out of my band phase (unfortunately) and i dont ship ryden, or any of my old band ships, as much anymore.
> 
> i'd like to thank everyone who has supported me from the start. i really appreciate each and every single one of you. without you, i dont think i wouldve made it this far. each of you have given me the will to push on with this. however, on this note, i deeply apologize to everyone who was expecting an update today. i'm sorry i've let you down.
> 
> and now for some stuff i had planned for the this book:
> 
> ▪ ryan acknowledging his feelings for brendon. it took him till he was 16 to admit that he had a crush on brendon. uhh basically he was just denying his feelings the whole time, said "he's my best friend ofc i'd care a bit too much for him" bla bla bla and stuff like that. who he confided to? peanut the corgi.
> 
> ▪ brendon dated sarah for a bit (and ryan was lowkey jealous without even realizing it) bc he thought ryan would never like him and he tried to be happy with sarah for awhile before the two of them mutually agreed it wasnt working out.
> 
> ▪ george and ryan making up to each other. ryan is like "well damn i know you've been a shitty dad and i'm not forgiving you that easily but ,,, we could try to make this work."
> 
> ▪ ryan goes from a salty little bitch who gets angry at almost everything to someone who makes an effort to understand others and has a great capacity for sympathy.
> 
> ▪ ryan also manages to find barebone. there's this big duel, brendon almost dies in the process but ryan manages to incapacitate barebone long enough for MACUSA to find her
> 
> ▪ did i mention that ,,,will is a spy and that he is the one who almost gets brendon killed.
> 
> ▪ spencer is super protective of brendon so hearing the way ryan initially treated him from brendon (who had too big of a crush on ryan to realize ryan was a dick) made spencer be like wow i hate one (1) bitch named ryan ross. he admits this to ryan at one point in the story prior to the two of them agreeing to put away their general hate for each other.
> 
> ▪ there was supposed to be a slow dance scene at after the general shitstorm of the plot and uhh ryden kiss. which is supposed to be the first and last kiss of the book.
> 
> questions? i mightve missed some stuff i wanted to add while writing this so if you want clarification, ask here!
> 
>  

this was the note i posted for the last part of lumos. a friend of mine from wattpad has expressed interest in taking over for this fic using the outline above. i have not heard about her plans for the fic but if you'd like to see what she can do with it, you may click on [this link](https://www.wattpad.com/user/-pxrtytxttoos) to visit her profile.

**Author's Note:**

> fun fact: this was the last work i was working on my old wattpad account and i wanna say that i love this fic dearly, even though i wasnt able to finish it. when i look at this and compare it with my first work from the same acc, [T-SHIRT](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932765), i'm amazed by how much progress i have made.
> 
> anyway, thank you so much for reading this through!


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